


Temporary Ground

by Wild_Roses



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood and Violence, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, F/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Minor Violence, Not Epilogue Compliant, Slow Burn, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-03-22 09:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 29,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13761540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wild_Roses/pseuds/Wild_Roses
Summary: When Hermione realizes her professor is struggling in his position as a spy, she determines he needs a friend. As Hermione refuses to leave him alone, Severus begins to teach her more Defence Against the Dark Arts skills in the hopes that it will help Harry Potter survive the war. Hermione and Severus soon find one another to be more than expected.Temporary Ground takes place from the beginning of The Half Blood Prince to shortly after the Deathly Hallows. Mostly cannon compliant (as compliant as a relationship between Hermione and Severus can be). It was also very important to me to keep Hermione's friendships with Harry and Ron intact.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title Temporary Ground is the title of a Jack White song from his album Lazaretto. Many of the songs on the album inspired this piece of fan-fic if you're interested in taking a listen!
> 
> I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters in this work.

Hermione stood frozen, chewing on the inside of her cheek. _Fuck, I’m so stupid._

She’d only wanted to confirm a thought she’d had while reviewing the most recent chapter of her Defense text. She’d noted that text had a major inaccuracy when it came to the leg-locking counter-curse. She had wanted to confirm that, in some cases, the recommended counter action could potentially lead to uncontrollable dancing of the legs- which, given that that is a hex in its own right, would obviously not be a desirable outcome.

Professor Snape had not answered when she knocked. She had hummed outside his office for a minute and then knocked again, slightly harder. It was his designated office hours. Harry had confirmed he was, in fact, in his office as Harry had taken to obsessively monitoring both the professor and Malfoy on the Marauder’s Map.

She knew, of course, that he did his utmost best to avoid actually having to meet with any students during office hours. But if he could clarify something that could potentially be of use to her when she inevitably went off with Harry, she’d be damned before she’d give in to the professor’s off-putting demeanor. Something in her had faith that even if Harry was right, and Professor Snape was not truly looking out for the interests of the Order, his academic integrity would ensure she received a truthful answer to her query.

While his classroom was no longer in the dungeons his office remained the same as well as, she presumed, his living quarters- the head of Slytherin should be housed near their dormitories. Hermione had wrapped her cloak more tightly and swung the door to his office open. She had glanced around and taken a few steps in, noting a lantern on in his private store room at the back of the office. And then she had noticed him.

At this point she’d been watching for a least a full minute as he sat on the floor of the store room, sobbing. With his head bent into his arms, his dark hair shielded his face. His shoulders rocked with each gasp. The rawness of it had felt like a knife in her gut, rooting her to her spot. Her thoughts raced. _Do I leave? Yes! Back away slowly, he might not notice._  

An insistent part of her, somewhere deep in her chest, wanted to reach out. To comfort. _Stupid. Why can’t I ever leave well enough alone? Doors have a purpose Hermione!_ Her parents had often had to remind her of this message as a child.

90 seconds in. He looked up suddenly. She noted a flicker of that pure emotion before shutters slammed down in his dark eyes. He opened his mouth. She expected him to verbally lash her until she left. Instead he stood slowly, wiping at his face with a sleeved forearm and the door slammed behind her, leaving them facing one another. He must have used a non-verbal spell to close it she realized, feeling an unpleasant sense of vertigo.

“Miss Granger,” He said slowly, “I take it you are here regarding some inane question about my class?”

“Uhm-“ So he was just going to ignore it? Okay. She delved into the question she had spent an hour analyzing prior to coming to his door.

Hermione watched his facial expressions intently as he listened and then considered his response. His eyebrows lifted slightly, as if he might have been surprised, maybe even impressed that she had caught the error.

“Yes,” he drawled, “I would, in fact, have clarified that matter in class on Thursday.”

 _He’s trying to make me feel ashamed_ , Hermione thought. Whether for her impatience, impertinence or her generally giving a shit- something that he seemed to work to portray as being far below him. She set her chin and looked defiantly back. 

“Given the way things seem to be progressing and my own situation I feel it is important to be ahead of the curve.”

He nodded sharply, his face remaining tight, “Ten points to Gryffindor for your critical thinking, then.”

That threw her.

“Thank you, Professor.”

“Miss Granger?”

“Yes?”

While he was still withholding any degree of emotion from his expression, the length of time that he stared in to her eyes brought an intensity to the interaction that made her want to fidget anxiously. She forced the urge down.

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“Of- Of course.” 

****

Laying in bed, Hermione stared up at the canopy, following its swoops and folds with her eyes as her mind swirled.

The morning after her meeting with Snape it had become evident that he was walking with a pronounced limp.

“Probably something devious,” Ron muttered as he pointed it out over breakfast.

Harry nodded, slathering his toast with marmalade, “Yeah, remember the last time he had a limp?”

“You mean the time that he was actually trying to stop Quirrell from being an evil git?” Hermione snapped.

Both boys rolled their eyes at her and began to discuss something about Quidditch. Hermione immediately tuned out.

_Had he been crying from the pain? No, he wouldn’t have been able to pull himself together so smoothly if that were the case. How had he been injured? Something in service to the Order? Something He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had done to him?_

It seemed clear to her that what she had walked in on was not a common occurrence. Most likely one never shared with another person. The thought made her heart ache. She had never thought about it- she chastised herself now for not even considering it- but he must be in a terribly lonely position. Walking the line between two sides of a brewing war. Lonely and disturbingly dangerous.

That afternoon, he had pointed out the error in the text to the class, acknowledging that some of the students had already identified it. He made sure to elucidate what the mistake was and the proper counter-curse. He’d caught her eye just briefly. She’d glanced immediately away.

She turned the events over in her mind, examining each angle of the situation and developing a sense of determination.

**** 

Severus sighed slightly when he heard the knock. He focused for a moment on tightening all his muscles, pulling them in to use so as to hide his limp, as he crossed to the door and swung it open.

“Miss Granger,” he noted, unsurprised.

He strove to tamp down his irritation as she strode past him into the office and fished her textbook out of her bag. She flipped through it rapidly until she had found the page she wanted to consult with him about. Detecting transfigurative disguises.

“That, Miss Granger, is something we will cover in March.”

She gave him a determined glare, tempered somewhat by her polite smile, “Ahead of the curve remember, Sir?”

Rolling his eyes, he gestured for her to sit in front of the desk. He took his time in walking around and taking his own seat, for some unfathomable reason delaying the inevitable. He had an inkling that she was not here solely for academic purposes. Of course, she _had_ always made far more use of his office hours than most students, no matter how acerbic he was towards her in class.

He answered her questions thoroughly all the same, knowing they would support Harry Potter in surviving the coming years. Miss Granger was, after all, an undeniably exceptional mind. When she did not appear to have any further rapid-fire questions he stood and swept to the door, pulling it open for her.

“Professor…” she straightened, rolling her shoulders back as if to fortify herself. “How are you feeling? 

“I’m sorry?” His tone made it clear that it was, in fact, she who should be sorry.

“Your-your injury. To your leg?” She stammered.

God help him. He closed his eyes for a moment.

“Miss Granger, I hope the few occasions you encountered me at Grimmauld Place over the last year have not given you a sense of familiarity.”

He felt a slight twinge, as if he had behaved badly, as she bit her lip and cast her eyes down, losing the strong posture she had worked to demonstrate not a moment earlier.

“I am just fine,” he added.

She gave him a fleeting smile and all but ran away.

 

****

“Hermione!” Hagrid beamed down at her. He ushered her in to sit by the fire and banged around making tea before sitting across from her and asking, “Harry and Ron caught up with Quidditch?”

“No,” she smiled, “To be honest, I just needed a break from them.”

“Ah, well.”

Sipping on her tea, Hermione felt some of her tension release. Hagrid knew what it was to need a break from people. To be one with unique interests that weren’t always quite understood by peers. They talked convivially for awhile, catching up on how classes had been going and how Grawp was doing. Hermione was admittedly terrified of Grawp, but had become somewhat fond of him after the events of last spring.

Finally, she leant forward and said, “Hagrid… if you knew someone was having a difficult go of things and that they probably didn’t have anyone to give them any support, really, but you didn’t know them too well and perhaps it would be a bit of a breach of your normal acquaintance to..to voice any support… would you do it anyhow?”

Hagrid hummed, meeting her eyes as he considered. “I would reckon so, yeah. And if there’s one thing I know about yeh, Hermione, it’s that you wouldn’t let such a thing as social roles hold yeh back from anything.”

She chuckled in recognition of the truth. She stayed awhile longer, grateful for the company and Fang’s warm head resting comfortingly on her lap before thanking Hagrid and bundling back up for the walk across the grounds in the chilly October afternoon.

**** 

Hermione began making sure she irritated Professor Snape with a new topic of discussion each week during his office hours. They were never interrupted with any other student seeking extra time with their esteemed Professor. While he’d often used his sharp tongue to tear her down in front of the class, she found for some reason he would never do so when discussing the subject one on one. He would, of course, do his best to appear exasperated but over the weeks she became fairly certain that he enjoyed her astute observations and seeking mind.

And she enjoyed her weekly meetings with him. He was undeniably brilliant. Despite his history, when they discussed counter-curses, protective enchantments and all manner of dark objects and creatures his passion for Defense Against the Dark Arts shone through. Truth be told, she really found him quite witty. His sarcasm, when not directed at her or any of her dear friends, was rather satisfying. Something in his mannerisms was endearing as well. His eyebrows seemed to have a life of their own when he chose to let them off leash. He’d sweep his hair back in excitement during a debate, so as to allow his eyes more space to emphasize his point. And, very rarely, Hermione would catch his lips twitch up slightly at the corners.

Even his office itself intrigued her. It seemed to personify the professor, actually. Dark and traditionally masculine, if somewhat bleak. To the right of the entry was his large wooden desk, stained in a deep brown-nearly black. Two doors opened behind it- one to the store room, she knew. The other she suspected opened to his private chambers- she couldn’t help but be curious if within there was actually evidence of the chamber being his home. The office sported no such details.

To the left of the door was the fireplace and two plush armchairs upholstered in a dark green velvet. Every single inch of wall space from door to door, floor to ceiling was shelved and packed with books. It seemed he had them arranged by genre, and alphabetically within each category. Hermione appreciated the fastidiousness of it all. There was never anything out of place in the office. Never any object that could be perceived as personal. But it was always warm, a roaring fire keeping away the chill of the dungeon hallways. Over the weeks she began to find the space rather comforting.

Never bothering to ask how Professor Snape was before delving in to her latest consideration of DADA, Hermione never neglected to ask after his health at the close of their meetings. The professor had not berated her for being overly familiar again. Hermione was pleased with the perhaps begrudging acceptance. His answer each week was without deviation: “I am just fine.”

Harry and Ron, of course, harangued her endlessly for seeking Snape for further education. Hermione staunchly defended her choice, reminding them that dark times were ahead and she intended to prepare herself properly while she had such opportunities.

****


	2. Chapter 2

Severus swiped the tapestry, which depicted an attempted witch burning, out of his way and stepped into the hall, brushing dust off his frock coat. A little dust was worth avoiding Moaning Myrtle on his night patrol. As he straightened he caught the eye of Miss Granger, who had just come around the corner, preceded somewhat by her hair.

“It is an hour past your rounds as a prefect Miss Granger.” He had rather suspected she would be in the midst of a raucous crowd of fellow Gryffindors, having just won the quidditch match that afternoon.

“Hello Professor,” she said distractedly as she drew nearer. “Sorry, hadn’t even realized. Isn’t it Professor Vector’s rounds tonight?" 

“She was indisposed. I am more of a night owl as is, I was more than happy to cover.”

“Harry is certain that you enjoy patrols in order to have plentiful opportunities to take away points,” Miss Granger gave him a slight smile. 

“Tell me why I shouldn’t deduct points from your house?”

She looked sorrowfully up at him before a raspy meow brought his attention to their ankles. 

“Does this deformed creature have a name?”

Miss Granger frowned at him, “You sound like just like Ron and Harry. His name is Crookshanks and he is handsome! But more importantly, he is the most intelligent creature within all of Hogwarts.” 

Severus allowed his lips to hook up a little at the edges, Miss Granger had given him such a pointed look he was fairly certain she was making an allusion to his own qualities. “Most intelligent? You may be selling yourself short, Miss Granger.”

She hummed quietly, bending down to scoop the cat up.

“Is everything quite alright?”

Miss Granger gazed at him bemusedly. Over the last months, as she took it upon herself to incessantly check up on him, he’d seen nearly every emotion in the book flit across her face. The vulnerability she allowed herself to walk around with was discomfiting. 

“Just fine,” came her answer.                                                                                                                               

He rolled his eyes, “Come, Miss Granger, perhaps a tea before bed will be of benefit? I have a relaxation herbal mix of my own creation. I’m sure there is some topic regarding which you wish to irritate me with numerous questions.”

****

Hermione felt her heart rate pick up as she followed Professor Snape down the stairs, towards his dungeon office. He did not slow his pace for her, trademark robes billowing. Crookshanks padded happily behind, looking back and mewling every few steps to ensure she was in pursuit.

She didn’t quite know what was happening. While she had rather grown to like the professor everyone despised so much, it was not as if he had been the kindest to her over the years. She would never forget when Malfoy had hit her with the jinx to grow her teeth and Snape had said coldly, “I see no difference.”

Yet here he was, midnight on a Sunday, inviting her to his office for a mug of _tea_. Evidently because he had picked up on her emotional distress. Harry and Ron would have been certain his intent was to poison her.

He held the door open for Crookshanks and said drolly, “Enter, cat.”

Feeling the situation was too surreal to do anything but follow his instructions to sit, she shuffled her way into his office and seated herself into the chair in front of the desk. She’d nearly been unable to get her legs to move when he’d suggested she take one of two armchairs across the room by the fire instead.

Professor Snape handed her a steaming mug before sitting in the second chair and asking, “So what might you like to discuss?”

_Pull yourself together Hermione!_ She blinked back tears that were threatening, his unexpected show of compassion seeming to poke holes in the dam she’d worked on building throughout the night. 

“Well, to be honest, I’m running out of questions from the DADA text, but maybe I could ask you about potions?”

“Potions?” He quirked an eyebrow at her. 

“It’s just.. Professor Slughorn- he’s well enough but…”

Professor Snape replied archly, “I hear you’ve become rather a favourite of his.”

Wrinkling her nose, too exhausted to keep her distaste of the man’s blatant motivations under wraps she asked, “Could you discuss the theory behind revival potions with me in more depth?”

****

So, for nearly an hour, Severus reviewed the theory of first revival potions, and then the stability and shelf life of various antidotes, with the young woman sitting across from him. He’d watched as she gradually became more comfortable, loosening her posture and finally, slipping her shoes off to tuck her feet underneath her in the armchair. 

She was quite unique, Miss Granger. She had a fascinating coupling of self consciousness and courageous openness. While she would certainly have done well in Ravenclaw, the Gryffindor traits were clear- she was determined to let nothing hold her back. She was, in fact, one of the only students he’d had over the course of his career to question him in class. 

Suddenly, a blur of orange flew across the room and landed on his lap with a plop. He felt his eyes widen in shock as the cat turned a few tight circles over his thighs, settled and began purring rapturously.

“That’s high praise from Crookshanks, you know. He dislikes nearly everyone. He did like Sirius, though. Hated that sneak of a rat of Ronald’s of course.”

“Well then I suppose he is quite intelligent, isn’t he?” Severus mused, giving the cat a well-received chin scratch. “Though I’m not sure I appreciate being placed in the same group as Black.”

Swirling the dregs of her tea, Miss Granger looked across at him with a slight smile, “Professor Trelawney would say I’m destined for a terrible death or doomed love affair or something awful. I’ve got what looks to be crossbones in here.”

“I’d think you would take Professor Trelawney more seriously after the events of last spring. You must be aware that it was she who foretold the events that have shaped your dear friend Mr. Potter’s whole life?” Severus felt a pang with the recollection.

“Well, yes,” she sighed. “But why must she be so melodramatic?”

A short bark of a laugh escaped him. Hermione’s eyes widened, delighted. “You really are a rarity amongst young women Miss Granger.”

“Not that it matters much.”

“Perhaps I spoke to soon, that was a rather melodramatic comment.”

She gave him a rueful smile, “I suppose it was, wasn’t it? I’m sorry. I am just getting fed up with, well, just about everyone.”

“Well if your two closest friends weren’t such blithering idiots,” he drawled.

“Hey!” She gave him a small smile.

“Get yourself back to your dormitory, Miss Granger. I imagine I will see you tomorrow evening during office hours.”

“Yes, thank you Sir.”

Severus watched from his office door as she walked down the hall towards the stairs, glancing back at him several times. Her cat wound between his legs before speeding down the hall after her.

****


	3. Chapter 3

Severus stood towards a back corner of the crowded room, feeling utterly miserable. He hoped it showed on his face- it would keep people away. If he were being completely honest with himself, it was not his colleagues pressure that had brought him to Slughorn’s party tonight, but the ridiculous hope that he would get to observe Miss Granger outside of her element. She intrigued him.

He wished he could say that he did not know when she arrived to the party.

She arrived on the arm of that arrogant prat McLaggen, looking rather hesitant. He couldn’t help but note her dress- dusty pink, structured and fitted in a far classier style than most the other young women’s. A rush of resentment hit him. This was ridiculous. He needed to go. This was his student. _Pathetic._

Professor Vector swept him up in a conversation and he did his best to engage with at least his standard level of barely more than apathetic. When Vector drifted away he was left standing alone again, surveying the room.

A gentle hand on his elbow set him into high alert. He glanced down sharply to see Miss Granger, having come up from behind the curtains next to him.

“Professor, hide me please!”

His brows furrowed, “Hide you?”

“From McLaggen! Oh gosh, sorry, I’ve worried you. Nothing that serious. But he is awfully obnoxious.”

“Miss Granger, it is not my concern that you chose your date poorly.”

She looked down, shame blotching her cheeks, “No, of course not Sir, it’s just… Well I agreed because I knew it would upset Ron Weasley… he’s been acting like such a prat lately and… Well despite him being a year ahead, McLaggen and I are the same age. I turned of age end of September, first of my year… It’s always been a bit of a sore spot for Ron that I’m older. My god I’m awful.” She looked up at him earnestly, “McLaggen’s rather frightened of you.”

Severus couldn’t help but let his lips twitch momentarily into a smile, “So you want me to scare a young man away for you?”

“No!” Hermione straightened and brushed down her skirts, “No. Well… Yes. But also, we could talk about potions!” 

“Alright, what potion would you like to discuss?”

“I-I don’t know. I’m a little frazzled, it seems.” 

“McLaggen did not take any liberties with you, did he?”  Severus’ face grew more severe.

“No! Goodness, no. Well… He did conveniently position me under the mistletoe. That’s when I scampered.” She narrowed her eyes, “You are rather scary, truly.”

“I appreciate the glowing compliment.”

“Did you know that during our Boggart lesson in third year poor Neville’s turn led to a perfect recreation of you? He dressed it in his grandmother’s clothes with his _Riddikulus_.”

“I had heard some rumours of the sort, yes.”

“Don’t sound so amused! You really ought to be kinder to him. I know you can be, you’re decent enough during office hours.”

“You mean after I gave in and stopped ignoring your knocks on my door?”

“Well.”  Hermione blushed once more, “I suppose I should allow my date to pull me for a dance. Or perhaps I’ll just slip away and go back to the tower…”

“That sounds like something I would do, Miss Granger.”

“Right. Well. Best not then. Thank you for a few moments of reprieve, Professor.” 

“My pleasure,” Severus gave her a slight bow and watched as she drifted off, headed not for the confused looking McLaggen, but Potter and Lovegood.

**** 

Severus woke late Christmas morning, preferring to avoid the brunch in the Great Hall. He meandered out to his office, lighting the fire and setting the kettle to boil. He turned to his desk with the intention of doing some marking- the foul mood he was in could be nicely transformed in to some constructive criticisms.

There was a parcel on his desk with a card on the front. The card was unabashedly festive- a moving painting of Santa’s sleigh with glittering snow fall. It read _“Don’t reign in the holiday fun!”_ on the front. His lip curled into a sneer as he flipped it open.

 

_Dear Professor Snape,_

_I hope you will not be too angry with me for the card. I’ll admit, I chuckled thinking how distasteful you would find it. Buying gifts for teachers at the holidays and year end is rather a muggle tradition. In past years, I have only thought to do so for Professor McGonagall, as my head of house. This year, however, you have been so helpful during our study sessions I wanted to show my appreciation. I hope it does not aggravate you too much!_

_I can’t help but pay great attention to any books in my environment- I swear they call to me- and I noticed you seem to have all but this in your wonderful collection. I hope it might provide you some company and enjoyment over the holiday break._

_All my gratitude and best wishes…See you in the New Year!_

_-Hermione_

Severus ran his fingers over the words, before turning to place the card on his mantle. He unwrapped the parcel to reveal Charles Dickens’s Bleak House. She was right, it was the only novel by Dickens that he did not have. She had even found a cloth bound copy that matched his collection. He took the book to his favourite arm chair and sank down, holding it tightly as he stared into the fire.

***

Hermione unwrapped the letter that a school barn owl had dropped off at dinner an hour previous with shaking fingers. She had shrugged it off to her parents as simply well wishes from school mates and that she wouldn’t disrupt Christmas Dinner over it. She had, however, recognized the scrawl on the address immediately and her heart had been pounding since. She suspected she had been too forward in giving a gift to the cantankerous professor.

_Miss Granger,_

_Thank you for the kind gift. I will admit that it is not something I am at all used to and it rather touched me. You were correct in that it was the one copy I do not have and I look forward to reading it. You were also correct in suspecting I would find the card distasteful. Given the sentiments inside, however, I can hardly complain. You are more than welcome to my time during office hours. You are, of course, one of the brightest young people I have encountered in my years at Hogwarts. If you tell anyone I said so, however, I may have to consider extreme measures to refute your claims. Perhaps I should instruct you to burn this letter._

_Take care to enjoy this Christmas with your family,_

_Professor Severus Snape_

Hermione felt her heart fly as she read the letter over a second time.  _My God I’m getting myself in over my head._ He had joked with her. And appreciated her gift! She had spent three days wondering if she should try and get a hold of Dobby to stop him from delivering it for her. And yet, he had appreciated it. Enough to send her a letter on Christmas Day.

**** 

“Professor!” Miss Granger gasped, flying in to his office unannounced.

Severus set aside the marking he was working through and flicked the door shut with his wand.

“Miss Granger?”

“Oh, Professor,” she ran a hand through her frizzled hair. “Harry overheard you and Draco Malfoy talking during Professor Slughorn’s party!”

A sinking feeling hit Severus. “Potter really must learn to mind himself one of these days. He truly is reminiscent of his father.”

Miss Granger snarled in response to his tone, “I just wanted to let you know. I, of course, assume that whatever it is you have sworn to do is with the full understanding of Professor Dumbledore. And anyone with eyes can see the Malfoy looks unwell.”

“Indeed.”

For a long moment they simply glared at one another. Then Severus rubbed his forehead wearily.

“Miss Granger, you need to stop coming to my office hours.”

“I _what_?” She shrieked unabashedly.

His dark eyes met hers levelly, “You need to stop. Since the conversation Potter overheard, I have had a discussion with Lucius Malfoy. Draco made a comment to him regarding the amount of time I seem to be spending with you." 

“Oh,” the young woman deflated somewhat.

“Given you are of keen intellect, I am certain you can see why such observations might be of concern.”

“But your letter…”

Severus worked to maintain his steady expression, “Was an error in judgement on my part. I should have simply thanked you. The day after I sent it I had my conversation with Lucius.”

Hermione nibbled on her lip and took a step towards him, “So I’ll come when it’s less obvious.”

“Miss Granger, there is really nothing more I can teach you. And I simply can not afford to appear as though I am going out of my way to teach you anything.”

Her eyes flashed, “Bollocks!”

“It puts you at risk, as well Miss Granger. You are already far too notable between your talents and your friendships.”

“You’re just- you’re just a coward! Blocking yourself off from anything meaningful!”

Severus closed his eyes softly, “Leave.”

His eyes remained pressed tight as he listened to her footsteps retreat. 

****


	4. Chapter 4

Since Professor Snape had told Hermione she was no longer welcome at his office hours she had taken to keeping an eye on him every other opportunity she had. She would assess his movements throughout DADA classes for signs of injury. Watch his interactions with his colleagues at the head table throughout meals. It had been several weeks and he seemed as well as ever. His mood, however, was undoubtedly more foul than at its baseline.

“Why do you think he’s being even more of a git than usual? Slytherin’s loss of the game?” Ron conjectured one evening over a game of Wizard’s Chess with Harry. Hermione, reading a little distance away as she still was not on speaking terms with Ron, huffed audibly. Ron rolled his eyes at her before ordering his Knight to decimate Harry’s queen.

“Dunno,” Harry mumbled frowning at the game board.

The lines of Hermione’s books swam a little. It had been very clear that Professor Snape was more caustic than usual. He’d even made Neville tear up in class yesterday- something that had not happened since third year.

She felt poorly for how she’d reacted in her last conversation with the Professor. It might have been easier if she could just be angry with him, but she could logically understand where he was coming from. Even so, her heart roared to refuse his excuses. Slytherin and Gryffindor were such a volatile mix, she reflected, because at the centre of both bravery and ambition was a sense of unwavering wilfulness.

At dinner the next day, she watched as the fingers of his left hand twitched slightly. His face remained neutral as he swallowed his bite, dabbed at his lips with a napkin and stood to leave well before dessert. That was out of habit- Hermione had noted Professor Snape had rather a sweet tooth. Her gaze followed as he left the Great Hall in a measured pace.

After dinner she took up a window seat in the library that overlooked the front walk of the castle. For hours she pretended to read while anxiety gripped her. He was with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, she was sure of it. Madam Pince kicked her out at quarter to ten o’clock. Hermione slipped down a quiet hall. Ignoring the unpleasant chill that comes with disillusioning herself, she sat quietly next to the house hourglasses. 

Her muscles had ceased to ache and begun to feel numbly stiffened by the time the massive grandfather clock in the hall chimed for quarter after one. She nearly jumped free of her disillusionment charm when the front door creaked open. Pressing her hand to her chest she let out a small sigh. There he was.

Professor Snape shuffled stiffly past her towards the stairs to the Dungeon. Hermione stood up and followed as quietly as she could manage. She imagined that, had he not thought himself safe within the castle walls, he would have noticed her despite being disillusioned. As it was, he appeared injured and focused solely on returning to his quarters. He slammed the door to his office behind him when he reached it. Lifting her wand, Hermione reappeared and reached for the door. Locked.

“Alohomora,” she whispered. She heard the door click and reached to push it open. It surprised her that such a simple spell did the trick.  The fact that he hadn’t cast any wards spoke to how awful a state he must be in.

She stepped in the room, closing the door softly. The professor’s back was to the door. He was hunched over his desk, palms flattened on the surface. She could see his cloak and robes lay tattered across his back. His lank hair hung obscuring his face. The small portion of his face that she could see appeared so pale as to be luminescent in the dark room.

“Leave, Miss Granger,” he ground out between clenched teeth, without even a glance her way.

Hermione strode across the room to stand next to him. He turned suddenly, glowering over her. There were scarcely two inches between them.

“I am a dangerous man, Granger.” 

Setting her chin stubbornly, she glared back, “No.”

Professor Snape grasped the air between them with both hands. He looked as if he weren’t sure whether to tear at her hair or his own.

“Let me help you,” she insisted.

Snape let out a sigh that seemed a mixed expression of long suffering and sudden relief. He turned stiffly around her and opened the door to the next room. Hermione followed, flicking her wand at the sconces to throw his bedroom into light. He turned back towards her, appearing uncomfortable. There was a flash of the vulnerability she had seen that night in October. The night that had led to her doggedly looking out for him.

“Take off your cloak,” she commanded.

He shrugged it, along with his robes to the floor, wincing. His dark trousers appeared well enough intact. His frock coat, buttoned meticulously up to his throat had strips of fabric dangling around his sides. _The back must be as shredded as his robe and cloak,_ she realized.

“Do you have a potion for the pain?”

“The bathroom. I used to see Poppy… but she- it was too hard.”

Hermione nodded in acknowledgement and walked through to the water closet behind him. She scanned the open shelving, lined with neatly organized bottles and pulled down what she needed. She returned, uncorking it and passing it to her professor. His range of motion was so limited that as soon as he’d taken a swig she took the bottle, set it down and began to unbutton his coat.

“Miss Granger…” he growled.

“There is simply no way you could physically manage this yourself,” she asserted. 

After she set the jacket aside she made quick work of his shirt front and the buttons at his right wrist. Reaching for his left wrist, he made to tug away.

She looked frankly at him, “What’s there will not come as a great surprise. Let’s just get it over with, shall we?”

Dropping his eyes, he offered his wrist back to her. She tugged his shirt down and set it with his jacket, unable to ignore the bright red saturating the tattered fabric. She guided him to sit, straddling a wooden chair. He sank, resting his arms on the chair back and his forehead to them. Just a glimpse of the dark mark was visible through the strands of his hair. She’d heard rumours that the snake looked alive, squirming. She felt sick at the confirmation.

“Stay,” she ordered, though he did not look capable of much else. 

She returned to the water closet, efficiently retrieving a basin with warm water, a cleansing potion, dittany and a few soft, clean cloths. 

Setting the basin on his dresser top, she set about cleaning his wounds. He did not make a sound as she moved the cloth gently across each ragged laceration. He’d been whipped. Hermione wondered dizzily whether it had been a physical whip or one of magic.

She dropped the blood soaked cloth back into the basin. Pouring some dittany on to a clean cloth, she whispered, “This will hurt, now.” Her voice rang in the silence.

As she pressed the cloth to the uppermost of his wounds, he hissed.

“Professor?”

“Yes?" 

Hermione continued her ministrations, “I’ve always wondered… why did you participate in the duelling club with Lockhart?”

That was a chuckle, she was certain. “Was it so that none of us vulnerable students would die? Or for the satisfaction of seeing his idiocy in practice?”

“A blend of the two, I confess.”

“Yes,” Hermione murmured. “Well, I will confess my thirteen-year-old heart had been quite besotted with that prat.”

“I never did understand his appeal, myself,” Professor Snape replied, wryly.

“I fancy myself a better judge of character now. Undo your waistband, would you?” Hermione felt the professor tense at the request. “For the sake of Merlin! One of these cuts goes below the band on your back and I need to cleanse and seal it!" 

While she couldn’t see his expression as he raised his head and shifted his arms to undo the buttons, she was certain his lips were pursed sourly. “Fine, but do maintain my dignity, will you?”

Hermione pulled his waistband away from his hips. It stuck unpleasantly. Rolling it down slightly she revealed the remaining section of his torn skin. She cleansed it quickly and spread dittany along it. Squeezing one of his biceps gently, she stepped back to assess her work. 

Several long, angry reddened lines striped his back. All the wounds were, at least, closed now and well along the path of healing. Time, rest and a potion to prevent infection were all that could be done tonight. She rolled her lips inwards, noting the many old scars laced underneath his most recent injuries.

“Change into some pajamas while I clean up,” she suggested, levitating the basin into the bathroom with her and closing the door.

She poured the pink water down the drain and rinsed the cloths until no more blood leaked out. Scrubbing at her hands with soap, she inhaled deeply, letting the cedar scent clear her thoughts. She splashed cold water on her face before turning to grab the potions for infection prevention and sleep promotion. She knocked quietly on the door.

“I’m decent,” Professor Snape replied faintly.

Hermione walked back out into the room, glad to see him in a black cotton pajama set that looked soft. She measured out the potions for him and hovered as he took them. 

“I am fine, Miss Granger,” His tone was soft, lacking the irritable conviction she suspected he had been aiming for.

“Sleep, Sir,” she said, turning away.

****


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione paced the room in her sock feet. It had been many hours since she had followed the injured man to his rooms. He slept on his stomach without stirring, his breath deep and steady. That was reassuring at least. She knew he would expect her to be gone, but she could not bring herself to leave. Instead, she studied her surroundings.

The bedchamber had the same precise organization as his office and bathroom. It was, however, a little more spartan than the other rooms. Two dark wooden night stands graced either side of the moderately sized bed, which was neatly dressed in dark green. A matching dresser stood across from the bed. The wooden chair she’d treated him on was the sole additional piece of furniture. The only item gracing the surface of any of his furniture was the book she had given him for Christmas, sitting on his night stand. She felt warmed, knowing this- as if it let her in to his life, just a little.

She had tried to spend some time reading it, but had been far too antsy to pay it the required attention. Instead she had moved to stare out his window, which looked out below the surface of the lake. Progressively over the night the water had become clearer, a glowing green tone signalling the rising sun, she supposed.

Hermione was generally made uncomfortable by the lake. While she had, of course, agreed to her role in the second task of the Triwizard Tournament, she had found it to be one of the most uncomfortable experiences of her life. Right up there with flying lessons. 

Watching a school of decidedly unmagical fish swim past, she frowned. The level of tension she felt was one that was becoming increasingly familiar. It was how she felt when Harry returned with Cedric’s body, when Mr.Weasley lay in St.Mungos and she held Ron as he shuddered with silent sobs. It was how she felt when Harry had to go back to the Dursley’s immediately after Sirius’s death. It was the tension she felt when a loved one was hurting, and there was nothing she could do.

**** 

Severus woke slowly, first noticing the familiar scents of his own space. The light was dim. The lake always distorted one’s sense of time, but he imagined it to be just after dawn. As his eyes adjusted he recognized the figure standing by his window. He chose to watch her, for a little. She appeared burdened, shoulders tense, curls fighting the tie that held them.

“Miss Granger.” 

“Oh!” Her eyes lit as she turned to see him. “How are you feeling?”

He sighed, “I haven’t really registered that yet.” Severus grimaced slightly as he pushed himself into a seated position and gave his shoulders a few rolls. “Alright, I think.”

“I’m glad. You’ll need some food.”

Her warm brown eyes expressed such concern his heart panged in response. “I’ll call a house elf. They bring me food if I’m not up for the Hall.” 

“That’s good.” 

Hermione hadn’t moved from her spot next to the window. She seemed tangled in hesitation, unsure how he would respond to her refusal to leave him be the night prior. Severus stood slowly, facing her with the bed between them. He allowed his eyes to search her face openly, hoping to communicate his honesty to her. 

“Thank you, Miss Granger.”

She blushed, breaking her gaze away.

“You’ll be missed soon, if you haven’t been already.”

“Yes, Sir,” she turned towards the door, before turning back with a questioning look.

“I’ll be just fine, Miss Granger.”

At that she nodded determinedly and left the room.

****

Hermione knocked cautiously on Professor Snape’s door at his next scheduled office hours. His lips twitched slightly on seeing her, and he stepped back to allow her entry. He did not, she noted with discomfort, make any move to sit or invite her to do so. Rather he looked at her patiently, waiting for her question.

“Occlumency,” she said in a business like tone.

He shook his head at her, “No.” Before she could protest he added, “What I said before still stands, Miss Granger. It is not a good idea to spend any further time in one another’s company.”

His patient patronizing was more infuriating than his sarcastic sneer.

“Fine,” she snapped, whirling out the door again, “I’m sure I can figure it out on my own.”

**** 

Despite the biting cold bringing a blush to her cheeks and nose, Hermione stood looking over the lake. Frost blanketed the school grounds and though the air was dense with fog, there was an almost warm, soothing glow to it as it captured and softly filtered the sun. She admired the beauty with a sense of melancholy, grateful to have called Hogwarts home for all these years. Her life had been opened beyond her wildest dreams. A muggle life never would have been enough to satiate her intellect. She regretted the realization that she would only have a year and a half before saying goodbye to Hogwarts altogether. If that. It was impossible to ignore her instincts that she might have to flee along with Harry well before the end of her seventh year.

“Miss Granger.”

“Merlin!” She whirled around to see Professor Snape. How had such a tall man moved so silently? There was, she supposed, something in his long, slim limbs that suggested stealth. “Professor… Hello.” 

“You ought to work on your awareness of your surroundings, Miss Granger,” he smirked.

“Yes, well. It’s rather rude to sneak up on people you know.”

“I did not try to sneak, in particular. It’s rather a cold day to be out.”

“I wanted some peace and quiet,” Hermione replied, raising a brow. Then added, “Why are you out?”

With a dismissive shrug, Professor Snape replied, “Returning from a call.” 

“Oh?” 

“Nothing revolutionary.” 

“A shame,” she said dryly.

“Well, I’ll leave you to your ponderings.”

Hermione gave him a piercing look, trying to assess his intentions before shrugging and returning her gaze to the lake. She listened carefully to his receding footsteps. Incorrigible man. She could not understand him. He was somehow both aggressively course and distantly cold. And if he wouldn’t give her the time of day during his office hours, what was he doing approaching her now? She stamped her feet to warm her legs up. Most irritating of all was how very pleased she was that he had approached her to exchange those few terse sentences.

****


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione rushed along the corridor. Harry had just come back from another meeting with Dumbledore and, after he informed her and Ron (separately) of the events. She needed to get to the library before it closed in thirty minutes. She needed to find a book. Needed to prepare. Needed to do something.

She felt her chest begin to tighten as she turned the corner. The staircase she had planned on taking was in the process of relocating itself. She moved to turn the other way, then twisted back, uncertain. She realized something about her breathing was wrong. Something was wrong. Oh God. Oh God.

She grasped at her chest, moving to tug on her scarf. Everything around her seemed distorted, almost as if in a dream. Was this the effects of some dark spell?

Something grasped her arms and she let out a shallow gasp. She was being turned and pushed. She wanted to fight but she couldn’t. Her body wouldn’t respond as her mind screamed.

“Miss Granger!”

She was pushed through a doorway into a dim room.

“Miss Granger.”

The force pushed her down, seated her, on a hard surface.

“Hermione, look at me.”

_Well that’s Snape!_ He unwrapped her scarf and tossed it aside. 

“I’m going to breathe with you. Breathe in along with me….. And out…. That’s good- in… out…”

Hermione managed to follow along, the spinning in her mind subsiding. Professor Snape’s hands firmly held her biceps and he met her eyes with steady assurance. The sheer panic that had overwhelmed her settled into the lesser emotions of trepidation and shame. She glanced around.

“Where are we?”

“It seems the Room of Requirement opened itself in response to your pacing.”

Soft, grey light filtered through the room- as though it were a rainy morning. The scent of lavender came with each breath Hermione took. The walls of the room, rather than stone, were plastered and white. She sat on a wooden bench against a wall. Across the room was a small fireplace, a comfortable looking couch and a side table that held two steaming mugs.

“Apparently you need some tea,” Professor Snape said wryly, standing from his position crouched in front of her and offering a hand.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione whispered as she settled on the couch and accepted the tea he handed her. The man simply observed her from his position on the opposite end of the couch. “It’s just…”

“We are on the brink of a war, Miss Granger. A war which you will most likely be in the centre of. That is far more than any young women should have to face when they are trying to achieve Outstandings in all their NEWT courses.”

Hermione nibbled her lip as she anxiously assessed his expression. Something akin to regret, it seemed. With maybe a slight touch of good humoured amusement. She let out a hearty sigh.

“I am just trying to absorb every possible piece of learning that could be helpful. And… and then what? And those boys…” she clenched her robes as they lay across her thighs, “they don’t seem to get it. "

As a small sigh was released from her companion, Hermione looked up.

“Miss Granger, I will teach you occlumency.”

Her eyes widened, “You will?” 

“Yes.” His lips twitched ruefully, “as much as I hated attempting it with Potter, I suspect you will prove to be a more erudite student.”

“I promise,” she whispered reverently.

“We will just need to be more cautious in our meetings. The practice will perhaps, be vitally necessary to you in coming years. More than that, however, it will help you manage your anxiety. It is not unlike what I hear is a current fad in the muggle world,” he smirked, “-meditation. Now, if you are feeling alright, I will escort you to your dormitory. It is thirty minutes after hours." 

****

A moment after her knock, the door swung open of it’s own accord. She stepped into the office with some trepidation. Professor Snape was seated at the chair behind his desk, slumped somewhat, hands resting languidly on the arm rests.

“Professor,” she nodded, eyes sharply assessing him. “How are you?”

The smallest amount of pain escaped in his expression. In tone that was much quieter than typical he asked, “Why do you care?" 

Hermione felt a flame alight in her chest. This was a breakthrough. She shut the door softly and walked over to the desk, seating herself across from Professor Snape. He had evidently realised his posture portrayed something akin to vulnerability and had straightened, leaning across the desk with his interlaced hands resting on it. Hermione flicked her wand at the door to the office, locking it.

She needed to be very deliberate, she knew. No show of pity, or even compassion, would be accepted. No farce of friendship. She reached out and rested a hand on top of his.

“Because,” She met his eyes with fire in her own, “I believe you are a good man. In a position that leaves you with few who would have any faith in the notion.”

There again, was the flicker of openness in his eyes. Just briefly.

He snorted, “Not so good a man.”

She smiled slightly. The kind of smile, she knows, that makes its appearance on those rare occasions she beats Ron at chess. “Why don’t you let me judge that for myself, Professor? With all the facts you are able to give me? I prefer to base my decisions on the logical evaluation of evidence. Feelings are finicky and things are not always so simple as they appear.”

**** 

And so, for some god forsaken reason, Severus began to explain to Miss Hermione Granger of all people the reasons he had turned against the Dark Lord.                                           

He could not, of course, tell her much regarding his more current work. And she had sworn to share none of it with Potter, Weasley or any other living soul. But the rest of it… he told her of meeting Lily Evans when he was a shy, eager boy. Of how, once at Hogwarts, his desperation to gain friends had led him to build alliances with some people that Miss Granger, in her innocence would find wholly unsavoury.  Of the many small things and bigger things that built up to tear his friendship with Lily to the ground. Of his enmity towards James Potter and his friends, increasing in intensity over the years. Of the shame he’d had in the moment when Lily came to his rescue and the much deeper shame he’d carried after lashing out at her.

He told her about how that was not what had led him to the Death Eaters, rather the cutting of the last thread keeping him away. How he had hated his muggle father. How he felt the potential within the ranks of the Death Eaters, the opportunity to stretch his limits and expand his skills. How he was inarguably talented in the work. How he had created new spells to serve the Dark Lord. How he soon began to feel sickly as he witnessed and participated in many atrocities.

And then, finally, of the prophecy. How he had rushed to fulfill his duty and share it with his Lord. His Lord. He made sure to emphasize it. But then, it had left Lily targeted. Lily whom he had loved, in whatever way he knew how to. Lily who had been the best friend she could be to him. And how he had come to Dumbledore, who he resented throughout his school years for both his keen eye and his attempts at empathy. Dumbledore expressed his distaste with him, but had taken him on, to this path. A path to redeem himself, though he did not believe that truly possible. A path to at least try to prevent further horrors and loss amongst the world he no longer cared to lay out a future in.

And, not one to censor his faults, he took a moment to remind her of the general disdain with which he treats his students.

“So?” He sneered at the young woman across from him, “What do you think?”

“I think you need a good hot tea.” Miss Granger surprised him, standing and noting a side bar with a kettle and the fixings. She flicked her wand to set the kettle to boil in a manner that made her appear far too at home within his space. After some minutes of silence, she returned to the desk with two mugs of tea.

Sitting down again she looked back into his eyes steadily. “I stand by my previous statement.”

Severus prided himself in never being flustered, yet he released his breath in a puff that could only be described as so. How had this girl done this to him? She’d somehow chipped away at years of barriers. Worst of all, he felt somewhat lighter for it. Somewhat less burdened. That was no good. It was, of course, the burden that he needed.

**** 

Hermione searched the face of the man across from her. Now, his confession complete, he sat with his head tipped down, allowing his hair to shield his face. The lines around his eyes and mouth had grown tight. She had thrown him, she knew. And it was hard not to feel improperly proud about throwing a man like Severus Snape off balance.

“You greatly discounted many things you have done. I would hardly say that was an account of all the facts.” Snape snorted, Hermione pushed on. “You jumped between Harry, Ron, myself and a werewolf three years ago. Defended us against someone you believed to be a mass murderer. You sent the Order to help us last spring. You risk yourself on a daily basis for the Order. You talked me down from a panic attack a week ago.”

She leaned over the table towards him, “Look at me, please.” It was a command. The please spoken more of habit than intention. He dragged his eyes up to meet hers allowing his hair, pathetically, to hang partially in the way.

“Do not think me naïve. I am well aware that you are temperamental. That you walk a fine line between conceit and self disgust. That you carry prejudices and old rivalries. I do not believe each cruel word to your students has been in the name of keeping your cover in preparation for the return of your role as spy. Do not think I am under any delusions that beneath your hardened sarcasm you are nothing but a hurt little boy. Though, no doubt, that has contributed to the man you are.”

Hermione funnelled every ounce of fierce, Gryffindor grit she had into her words. “I may be young, but I am not stupid. I can see you are on the brink of breaking.”

Snape, seemingly losing his nerve, looked back down at the desk between them. Hermione, in a move that would likely horrify her in retrospect, reached across and lifted his chin up, forcing him to meet her eyes once more.

“And I will not allow it.” The look in her professor’s eyes wrung Hermione’s heart. A spark of hope lit within depths of hopelessness. “I will see you tomorrow evening.”

She strode from the room, thankfully able to make it out of the dungeons before she began to shake. She ducked in to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, allowing the first wrenching sob to escape.

****


	7. Chapter 7

Severus took breakfast in his rooms the next day. If he were being truthful with himself, he was feeling a little shell shocked. Miss Granger had used her blunt honesty like a tool. Her words were too accurate. Disconcertingly what he needed to hear.

She had been correct in recognizing that he was near breaking. The worst of it was that when she had entered his office that evening there was no reason for him to have been in the state that he was. He had not had a meeting with either of his masters within the previous week. Even then, his last meeting with the Dark Lord had been quite mundane in comparison to the one a fortnight previously. It hadn’t been one of those dates, either- one of those dates that stood out from the calendar like a sentinel of misery, that he could not help but to commemorate. No, Severus, for no particular reason, had just felt as though he was being pulled under a swell of hopelessness. 

Severus did not have a particular need for hope. He did not expect to live beyond the next several years. That was rather a relief. It was just the end of the Dark Lord that kept him moving throughout each day. That and the chance for Lily’s son to be able to live the life she had not. Maybe, Severus mused, that would be with Hermione Granger. He did, admittedly, harbour some hope that she, too, would be able to live a good life when all of this was ended.

Miss Granger, he imagined, would be sitting at breakfast right now, surrounded by her friends. Wondering how she felt about the previous night he pushed aside his plate in favour of a strong, black tea. Perhaps she was worried that he did not attend breakfast. Or perhaps she had expected it, after their wrought conversation.

She had rather surprised him with her patience, not approaching him until his office hours yesterday- nearly a full week after his offer to teach her occlumency. With a sigh, he pulled some parchment towards him. Since no teaching had occurred, he supposed he ought to set up an appointment with her.

**** 

Hermione smiled grimly as she unrolled the parchment dropped on her plate by a school owl over lunch. The owl happily accepted her slice of turkey before taking off.

_Miss Granger,_

_You may visit my office tonight, after your prefect rounds are complete, for your lesson. You are no longer to be seen attending my office during regular hours._

****

With the timid knock on his door, Severus stood to allow Miss Granger entry. Hesitancy overwhelmed her features. She no longer appeared the force of nature she had been last evening.

“You’ve tied your hair back,” she remarked.

He allowed his lips to hook into a small smile, “Yes, well, I find it gets rather in the way at times. I imagine you understand.”

With pleasure, he noted relief wash across her. “Yes, I do.”

He gestured for her to sit in an arm chair in front of the fire as he sat. “We must begin with a conversation around the theories of legilimency. Tell me, Miss Granger, what is it you know as of now?” 

Miss Granger leant forward in her chair and rapidly shared every piece of knowledge she had related to legilimency. She discussed the theories behind it, the murky history around its development, the laws surrounding its usage and the ethics that underlie them. She shared her knowledge of famed legilimens, including the Dark Lord.

“And from what I’ve heard, you as well, Professor,” she added. “Though I suspect you are more of a type to keep that card up your sleeve.”

“Quite an astute observation, Miss Granger. Now occlumency?" 

“The goal is to prevent legilimency… Obviously,” she added, noting the sardonic look on his face. “In order to occlude one must limit any passionate thoughts or feelings. And create a sort of wall, blocking entry into the mind.” 

“While that is strictly correct, there is a little more subtly to the art of occlumency than simply blocking your mind from unwanted entry. It is, you see, quite obvious to an accomplished legilimens if you are blocking your mind. I’m sure you can imagine the difficulties that such an event would present oneself with?”

Hermione nodded, eyes wide.

“If you are, as I suspect, going to remain steadfastly alongside Mr. Potter in coming years, this skill will likely be quite useful to you.” Severus felt his lips twitch ruefully, “Though unless you are able to pass along more of these skills to Mr. Potter than I was, I suppose his lack of capability on this front would put you at risk.” 

Releasing a little sigh, Miss Granger replied, “Well let’s focus on my learning, for a start.”

Ignoring the frustration in her tone, Severus said, “We will begin with teaching you to clear your mind, how to keep your most important thoughts and memories away from the surface. Then we can discuss creating a barrier, of sorts. Finally, and it is the most difficult skill to develop, we will work on your creating partially false memories to present to an enemy searching your mind.” 

He watched as she processed this information, the expression on her face rather hawk like. Finally, she nodded sharply.

“Take a moment, Miss Granger, to consider what order you would like your thoughts and memories to be accessed.”

She surprised him as rather than look reflective, she glanced searchingly around the room. “Where’s the pensieve?” 

“The pensieve?”

“Yes, with Harry you took out your memories before beginning.”

“I don’t imagine you will be rebounding into my mind Miss Granger. I had allowed my frustration to get in the way last year. Besides, it is rather dangerous to leave pieces of yourself outside your body in such a manner.” 

Hermione blushed, clearly remembering how her friend had behaved over the course of his lessons the previous year.

“If you are uncomfortable, I could, perhaps access the pensieve for your use?”

“No, no, that’s alright.”

Severus gave a slight nod. “Miss Granger, despite your intelligence and tendency to be a quick study, I suspect this will be rather challenging for you. You are not one to hide your emotional state.” 

“I’ll be fine,” she asserted, lips pursed.

“Shall we begin?”

“Yes Sir.”

**** 

Hermione followed the soothing sound of Professor Snape’s voice. He guided her through several deep breaths, as he had done the night of her panic attack. His dark eyes met hers evenly as he told her he was going to begin. 

She gasped slightly at the invasiveness of it. He moved softly, exploring the edges of her mind before he took a step in further. She had managed to clear the forefront of her mind, allowing it to fill with mundane observations about her surroundings. The feeling of the plush arm chair beneath her. The warmth of the fire along her left side and the coolness of the dungeon office along her right. The striking contours of her professor’s face, focused intently on her.

“Good, Miss Granger,” he murmured.

She sensed him move deeper and experimented with building up a mental wall. She felt him duck around it with ease. He was approaching thoughts she considered a little more sensitive. That was alright, though. She’d tucked the ones she was more hesitant for him to see far back.

Flashes of the last few months, in no clear order, were pulled to the front of her mind then sorted neatly back away. The night Harry came back with “ _I must not tell lies”_ scrawled across his hand in familiar script and how she had seen red. Ginny enthusiastically hugging her in greeting when she arrived at the Burrow that summer. Her genuine disappointment in only achieving an Exceeds Expectations on her DADA O.W.L. The fear that gripped her as she watched Katie Bell thrown into the sky by the cursed necklace. Her pride at conjuring a patronus in their DA meetings. Her determination as she completed the coins with the protean charms. Her shock as Ron snogged Lavender viciously in the middle of the common room. Her jumbled emotions as she sent a flock of canaries after him and the shame that washed her afterwards.

_No_ , she thought forcefully, working to push Snape away. She felt his acceptance, rather than retreat, as he pulled out of her mind. She maintained eye contact with him, realizing that she was panting from exertion.

“An admirable first attempt, Miss Granger. That was some skillful charm work with the coins.”

She rolled her shoulders a few times and then glared at him, “Again.”

“Miss Granger… it will be harder the second time.”

“Again.”

He acquiesced, slipping into her thoughts smoothly. This time, she focused on the flames she could see from the corner of her vision. The heat, darting and moving constantly. She felt his approval. Nevertheless, he managed to slip through them and into her thoughts. He passed the thoughts he’d been sorting through earlier, in favour of delving deeper. 

_Not there,_ she thought desperately. She immediately realized, of course, that such a response just encouraged him to search in that direction. She had drawn a giant X on the treasure map of her thoughts. She redirected her attention, trying to conjure up a combination of a wall and flames to keep him out. He moved straight through, the images dissolved. 

The professor’s even, dark eyes filled her mind. His smooth voice as he gripped her arms, grounding her. Glimpses of moments of the past months: sarcastic remarks, his enthusiasm in academic conversation, her pleasure at receiving his thank you letter on Christmas Day. His figure down the hall, watching her leave the night he’d invited her for tea. The incident with her jinxed teeth- she shoved that one up to the forefront, trying to shame him, stop him from moving inwards. Then, how torn she felt as she watched him, crying on the ground in October. The overwhelming emotions she’d had the night previous, as he told her his story and she fought to maintain control. How she had collapsed into gasping sobs while Moaning Myrtle hovered, delighted, above.

He pulled out of her mind so quickly it left her spinning. She grasped the arms of the chair, staring at the plush rug.

“That is it for tonight, I think.” Professor Snape said softly. He walked to his desk and returned to hand her something. A chocolate frog. She tore at the wrapping and shoved it whole in her mouth. As she devoured it she glared at the card that smiled up at her- Dumbledore.

****


	8. Chapter 8

As per usual, Professor Snape searched every student in the class for signs of an ability to answer his question before turning his attention to Miss Granger, whose hand remained steadfastly in the air. He watched as she delivered her unerring response and gave a curt nod before moving onto the next topic.

“ _Mudblood bint,_ ” Pansy Parkinson hissed from behind her. Hermione rolled her eyes.

It was with a sense of dread that she watched the words register with her Professor. His face tightened. He turned briefly to Pansy and drawled, “Ten points from Slytherin,” before seamlessly continuing his lecture. 

Hermione found herself unusually unable to attend to any further information throughout the lecture. She watched her time piece tick through the remainder of the hour. As the professor dismissed the class she waved Harry and Ron on, saying she had a complaint to address regarding the marking of their essay on the detection of dark objects.

Bending to pack up the remainder of her bag, she took a deep breath before leaning back into her seat. Students were usually quick to scamper from the professor’s classes and after counting to thirty behind the last student Hermione flicked her wand at the door to close it. She murmured a locking charm, followed by muffliato. She crossed her arms behind her desk, glaring at the man who was nonchalantly shuffling his papers, ignoring her presence. 

“What was that?” 

Professor Snape straightened and met her eyes. He did not speak for a long moment and Hermione had the sense that he was floundering amongst the many unacceptable responses that must be filtering through his normally quick brain.

Finally, he settled on imperiously stating, “I have the right to consequence as I see fit in my classes, Miss Granger.

“What a pile of-” Hermione cut herself off. “After refusing to so much as allow me to ask a question regarding class work for _weeks_ you think it’s suitable to come to my defense like that? Which is, in fact, notable considering your long history of blatant favouritism.”

She became further aggravated when he gave a small shrug and replied, “Miss Parkinson is obnoxious.”

“I have withstood the discrimination and harassment of Slytherins- including _yourself_ , let’s not forget- for six years. I certainly do not require any degree of protection. I am not some delicate flower.”

Hermione realized, shamefully, that she was afraid that he might indeed think her fragile. He had found her in the grips of panic earlier in the month, and viewed so many emotionally fraught memories during their first occlumency lesson, after all. 

He snorted rudely, “Miss Granger, there are very many terms I could utilise to describe you and I promise you _‘delicate flower’_ would never be one of them.” 

Pursing her lips, Hermione continued to glare. Whatever he said regarding that issue, it was still a poor choice to punish a Slytherin for such a reason. “You need to be more careful. You think sweet little Draco isn’t going to write home to his father over this? You were visibly angry, Professor.”

“You’re right.  I’m sorry.” His expression was so calmly restrained that Hermione was certain he was not, in fact, all that sorry.

“Good,” she replied shortly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” Hermione stood stiffly and stalked from the room, feeling confused.

****

They began meeting twice a week to practice, always after Miss Granger’s scheduled evening patrol. Severus did his best to avoid any conjecturing around the thoughts he had seen of himself during their first practice, and what their meanings might be. He was satisfied with her progress. As suspected, she struggled with it more than most of her pursuits, but she was now at the point of creating false memories-something he’d not been certain she would be able to manage at all. He’d had to frequently remind her not to let frustration overtake her, and had begun to notice her hair size was positively correlated with her irritation level. Each evening he gave her some chocolate, a condolence for fishing through her mind. 

At the end of February, as she bit the head off a chocolate frog, looking irate, he asked, “Miss Granger, could I venture to give you some advice?”

“You’re the teacher,” she snarled.

He chuckled lightly, “It’s more of a personal matter, I fear.”

Her eyes searched his features. For her benefit, he allowed them to soften a little. “Go ahead.”

“As someone who has lost a dear friendship… you need to have a conversation with Ronald Weasley.”

The boy focused prominently in Miss Granger’s thoughts. As he sorted through her mind Severus touched on her muddled feelings. Initially a crush, it seemed. But then a realization that that wasn’t quite it. Just a dear friend, who’d hurt her. And her own pride, lashing out in response. It reminded Severus quite a lot of his tumultuous relationship with Lily.

“I know. It’s… it’s his birthday tomorrow, actually.”

Severus gave her a gentle smile, she had collapsed into herself, looking weary. “So fix things.”

Miss Granger smiled in return, standing and offering him the rest of her chocolate frog, “Thank you.”

****

Hermione raced to the hospital wing, heart in her throat. She skidded to a stop as she saw Harry standing outside the doors. “Harry, what the _hell_ happened?” 

As Harry sputtered out the story of Ron’s poisoning, she felt herself turn cold. Ron had clearly gotten in the way just as Katie Bell had. And Harry was right, Malfoy was clearly behind this. And Snape knew something about it- he must, she knew he was trying to keep Malfoy on a leash. She felt like collapsing into hysterics. Harry pulled her into a tight hug. 

“I- I was going to apologize to him today.” 

“It’s okay, Hermione, he’s going to be fine.” Harry rubbed comforting circles on her back. 

“But he almost _wasn’t_!”

She sat anxiously at Ron’s bed side for hours, leaving for only brief periods when the Weasley clan squeezed in. Towards the evening on the second day Ron, now conscious and seemingly nearly back to normal, gave Harry a meaningful glare. Harry caught on quickly and left the two alone. 

“Ron-” 

“No, you listen to me,” Ron said reaching out to hold her hand, “I’m sorry I’ve been a bit of a git. Or a lot of one.”

She giggled nervously, “I’ve been… not so great myself. I’m sorry.”

“There’s been this weird- uncertainty between us for years now,” Ron noted.

“I- I think for awhile there I thought… that maybe we could be more than friends- or should be, anyways,” Hermione confessed, grateful for the dim lighting in the hospital wing. She was certain Ron’s ears were burning red and she suspected she might be looking a little green.

“Yeah, me too I reckon, but…" 

“It wouldn’t quite feel right, would it?”

Ron’s face broke into a relieved smile. “I love you Hermione, but-” 

“More like a sister?” She wagered.

“Yeah. Yeah… I’m sorry.” 

“I feel the same way.”

“I’m glad,” Ron gave her hand a squeeze. “I just didn’t quite know how to handle it… when I realized that was how it really was. After we seemed on the edge of something else…”

“Let’s just be glad that something else never happened. And never talk about it again. And… just- oh, thank God Ron. _You almost died!_ ” Hermione dissolved at this statement and flung her arms around Ron’s neck. He wrapped his arms tightly around her in return, murmuring that it was all alright now.

**** 

Severus strode into his office, slamming the door behind him with an excessively forceful spell. He flicked his wand to send everything flying off his desk and banged his fist down before taking a few shuddering breaths, feeling his stomach roll. Once he’d calmed a little he went to his store room and began laying out ingredients for a calming draught.

He wouldn’t take it, he knew. His greatest fear was to become his father. The man had wasted his life away under a haze of cheap muggle whiskey. The wizarding world offered far more enticing substances to abuse. When Severus was still in school, he’d experimented with mixing a calming draught with a forgetfulness potion. He’d taken it in the hopes of drowning out the barbed words he and Lily had flung back and forth between them. When he’d woken in the infirmary Madam Pompfrey had yelled at him with a savage disregard for his pounding headache. Then she had cried and said sadly, “You are likely the most intelligent student to walk these halls in decades and you nearly turned your brain to mush, Severus.”

No, he would not take the calming draught. He had not used any substance with such a goal since. It was the task itself that calmed him. Following the steps precisely. In order to brew a potion, you needed to be calm, to maintain composure. Potions had a volatile habit of imbuing themselves with your emotions.

As he lit the fire beneath his cauldron and began to mince the first of his ingredients he counted his breath. Dumbledore had just brought all his motivation, all his intention, crashing down.

Harry Potter needed to die.

All these years spent maintaining the countenance of the person he had been for a brief period of time- the person he hated. The person he wanted to rip away from himself, shed like a snake skin and leave behind. He had never _truly_ been that person, in any case. All that time putting on the act, the last two years the most dangerous, and it wasn’t for what he had believed. It was just to lead Potter to his death, another good pawn in the game to take down King Voldemort and his mad Queen Bellatrix. 

Severus had to set down his knife. He began to pace his office instead. Before long he fled its confines to the grounds, where he found himself standing under a familiar tree by the lake’s edge. Winter’s snow had melted but the ground was covered in a crisp layer of frost. Severus leant his head against the tree.

“I’m sorry, Lily,” he whispered. “So, so sorry. I failed.”

He stayed unmoving until he was numb. His thoughts slowed as his body cooled. He had been used. Harry was being used. Albeit, there was likely no other option if indeed, a part of Voldemort was within Harry holding the Dark Lord to a tenuous life no matter what actions were to be taken against him.

His thoughts turned to Hermione and Severus felt an ache grow within his chest. She would never forgive him. For having this knowledge, for sending her best friend to die. He sank to the ground where he remained until the sky began to lighten with a new day. 

****


	9. Chapter 9

Hermione had scarcely glanced at the professor’s face before asking, “Quite alright, Professor?”

“Fine,” he replied with a slight snarl.

Coolly Hermione replied, “Clearly not. You seem in even more of a foul mood today than typical.”

Hermione knew it was a slight risk to speak in such a familiar way, but recklessly determined it would be worth it. She had somehow found herself in such a position where she did not fear her professor’s wrath any longer.

“And you think you’ll be the remedy for that?” His voice dripped with irony.

She gazed at him steadily for a moment before saying, “I think that you may be teasing me, Professor.”

The look on the professor’s face was mixed. Something along the lines of shock mingled with gratification. He’d clearly expected her to be stung by the words. That was his intent, Hermione knew- to push her away, not to tease.

Then he burst out laughing. A baritone laugh that spilled out as if it took more joy in how it had surprised its source than the comment that initially elicited it. Hermione couldn’t help but grin in reply.

“You are infuriating, Miss Granger.”

“So I’ve been told,” she responded cheekily. “Anyways, I wanted to thank you for your advice about Ronald. I’m- I’m just glad that it hadn’t been too late for me to make amends. But we are friends again and part of that is thanks to you.”

“So long as you don’t go about giving the impression that I am an archetype magnanimous mentor, you are welcome, Miss Granger." 

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I suspect you would redirect your many talents to making my life as miserable as possible. I haven’t forgotten my five years of Potions under your tutelage.”

“You are likely the most talented student I have ever encountered in front of a cauldron,” Severus said solemnly.

“You’d never dream of making that concession in class,” she retorted, smirking as he bent to pet Crookshanks affectionately.

“No… I don’t want your ego to grow as large as Potter’s, you see. You are already quite the know all.”

Hermione scoffed, not neglecting to notice the way his mouth hooked up at the corners and his eyes sparkled slightly. While he may have emphasized his belief that she was an irritating teacher’s pet in the past, she was well aware that as they’d come to know one another better his opinion on the front had changed. In fact, he had seen more of her vulnerability than nearly anyone else. As she had his own. 

She revelled in the emotions elicited by the casual exchange for a moment before saying lightly, “Hagrid overheard a certain conversation of yours with our esteemed Headmaster.”

Severus looked down, “Ah.”

“What is it he’s holding over you? What is it you have to do, Professor?” Hermione asked earnestly, finally taking her seat across from him.

“Hermione,” He said forebodingly, “That is something you know I will not discuss.”

“Yes. I know. Fine.” She said snappishly. “It’s just… He seems so _manipulative_. Towards you. Towards Harry. I don’t trust it, truly.”

Hermione had felt this way increasingly throughout the year as Harry returned from his lessons with Dumbledore holding more pieces of a puzzle that Dumbledore seemed disinclined to reveal. Now Harry had the task of fishing information out of Slughorn, undoubtedly important, but all the same it didn’t sit right with her. And after hearing about her professor’s conversation with the Headmaster from Hagrid… 

Professor Snape looked up from his position, elbows resting on his knees, dark eyes understanding. “I know you have a strong sense of justice, Miss Granger- I remember S.P.E.W.” At this he smirked a little before continuing softly, “Don’t think of it that way, though. It is not so black and white. We might have our disagreements but… Albus Dumbledore has been put on a pedestal among wizards. He is still just a man though. He has his faults, yes, but he has forgiven me, trusted me, where no one else has.”

Hermione gazed across the desk at the man for several long minutes before nodding and replying, “Alright, then.”

It had surprised her to see his vulnerability, rather than his front, once more. She understood what he meant, she supposed. Still, she felt angry on the behalf of those she cared most about.

Mustering her courage for one last question, she asked, “And the poisoned mead?”

“I was unaware. I will ensure nothing so reckless occurs again.”

Hermione nodded, feeling confident in the truth of it.

“Shall we begin, Miss Granger?”

She took a deep, steadying breath to draw up her mental shields before nodding and recognizing his touch in her mind.

****

“Excellent!” Severus said as he filtered through Miss Granger’s mind.

She was half blood, Penelope Clearwater. Her mother worked at St.Mungo’s, her father was a dentist. Her own ambition was to become a healer. She was friends with Ginny Weasley, and therefore had met Harry Potter in passing, but did not know him well. She found him somewhat arrogant.

Then, a push into his own mind. Severus was caught unawares, unprepared. Miss Granger gained access. She began ricocheting through his mind, clearly out of control.

“Kindly remove yourself from my mind, Miss Granger,” he ground out.

She gasped, “I’m stuck.”

“ _Miss Granger,”_ he growled.

He, himself, was so panicked he could hardly manage to pull his memories out of the way before she reached them. She was catching glimpses of far too much. Some of which he had disclosed to her that night weeks ago, much more of which he had planned to take to the grave. 

A bottle flying at his head when he was young. Screaming _“mudblood”_ at Lily. Potter and Black sneering at him. The smiling face of Regulus Black. Looking reverently at his left arm, newly tattooed. Dumbledore’s set face as he ordered Severus to do the unthinkable-no speech accompanied that image, thankfully. A Death Eater raid- watching Antonin Dolohov rape a half blood teenager after killing her muggle mother. Voldemort casting the _cruciatus_ on Draco Malfoy, before turning his wand on Severus. 

In a desperate bid to stop Miss Granger from seeing any further horrors, Severus offered up some memories of her. Her touch at his elbow during Slughorn’s party. Her mischievous grin. The Christmas card that was so awful it was wonderful. Her gentle care when he returned to the castle injured. His impression of her ferocity, refusing to back down when he shared his story. Their first occlumency lesson when he found her thoughts regarding him. Unbidden, more than memories began to surface. Tenderness, trepidation, shame, hope.

With a shove, he sent her flying from his mind. She grasped her temples, looking urgently downwards.

“Why did you do that?” He asked, livid.

“I- It was an accident.”

“Do not lie to me, Miss Granger,” He strode across to her and bent down until her could make eye contact with her. He entered her mind swiftly, she was clearly too dysregulated to maintain her occlumency.

_FINE! I WAS CURIOUS! I WAS STUPID!_ She screamed mentally at him, shoving him out as she began to cry. He’d caught her swirling emotions clearly enough before retracting. Horror, fear, the images from his time with the Death Eaters clamouring for her attention. Alongside them, was confusion- and his thoughts of her.

Severus closed his eyes, taking a long breath. Then he crouched down beside the armchair and pulled Hermione’s hands gently away from her face, holding them.

“Voldemort is mad, Hermione.”

“I know that.” 

“And I realized that just a little too late. There was no going back. Since that was the case, I am doing what I can in my position to move us towards the end of this. But that means I have had to stand by for some terrible things.” 

Her watery eyes met his, questioning. “I have been able to use my role as an excuse to disengage from many of the actions that Voldemort requires of his followers,” Severus replied.  “You see, if it got out that I did too many horrific things, no doubt I would lose the trust of Dumbledore. I have never laid my hands on an unwilling woman, Hermione. Nor have I tortured. The only death that has occurred at my hands was one of mercy, to prevent further torture.”

Feeling sick, Severus watched her responses carefully. She paled at his admission of having killed, whatever the motivations. Time stopped.

Finally, “Where does this leave us?”

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly.

****

Hermione opened the letter that dropped on her breakfast plate, surprised to see a note from Dumbledore, requesting her presence in his office that evening. _Password is Raspberry Tart,_ the note informed. She had struggled to hold her panic at bay throughout the day. Professor Snape had clearly told him something, for her to be summoned like this. She was probably going to be told how very far out of bounds she was. As if she were not already clear on the fact.

She had not seen Professor Snape for three days. As luck would have it their last meeting, intense as it was, occurred on a Friday. Professor Snape had not been present at a single meal over the weekend. Today being Monday, he reappeared at the head table, but she did not have class with him and caught no more than a glance. It seemed they were both avoiding having to look at one another.

With trepidation she found the gargoyles that marked entry to the Headmaster’s office and whispered the password. She stepped onto the stairs and let them carry her up the tower. She tried to remember the breathing exercises Professor Snape had taught her, counting slowly, before she knocked on the door. 

“Miss Granger,” Dumbledore greeted happily, eyes twinkling. He did not seem angry in the slightest. He gestured for her to sit and offered her candied pineapple. “A gift from Horace,” he noted, “though I suppose I should be more careful regarding any gifts from him.”

Hermione frowned, feeling him to be too full of levity when referencing the near death of Ron. “How can I help, Professor?”

“Miss Granger, it has come to my awareness that you have taken upon yourself to check up on Professor Snape regularly.” 

Feeling abashed, she nodded.

“Well I have to say I am rather pleased to see it. Severus has few friends in this world, I’m afraid.” He chuckled when Hermione’s eyes flew up to meet his own. “Yes, Miss Granger, I believe it to be a good thing. Especially considering that he will be in an even more challenging position in the near future.

“Miss Granger- Severus must take a step soon which will make it appear that he has unequivocally chosen Lord Voldemort over the Order. That, of course, is the opposite of the truth. No one must know the truth of his allegiances, you understand, but I feel you can be one person on his side should he need someone.”

“But, Professor… why would you tell me this?”

“I have no intention of telling you what the action Severus will be taking is, my dear,” Dumbledore replied good naturedly. “However, you are a smart young woman and I have no doubt that after the fact, you will understand. When the time is right, you will need to ensure that Severus can make his last moves in this game. You will need to be his ally.” 

Hermione straightened her back. This was, of course, why she had refused to take a step back once she’d taken that very first step forward. Professor Snape- Severus- _needed_ someone.

“Of course,” she replied steadfastly.

“Wonderful! I fear Severus will be rather upset with me for telling you what little I have.” Dumbledore gave a little gasp, “But never mind, that is my problem, not yours. You are free to go, Miss Granger. Thank you for your time.”

****


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is a little shorter than most of the chapters, but I felt it had to be a separate chapter from the next scene.

Severus’s door flew open on its hinges and Hermione came flying in, hair bouncing.

“Miss Granger,” he greeted warily. He assessed her expression then felt safe to quip, “It seems I should start putting up wards specifically to keep you from entering unexpectedly.”

“Oh no you don’t!” She gasped, slamming the door shut behind her and stalking over to his place in front of the fire. “I just came from a visit to the Headmaster.”

“Oh?” Severus maintained his cool demeanor, though desperate for her to continue.

Hermione began to pace back and forth between the arm chair where Severus sat and the fireplace, a lithe lion with her mane exploding around her.

“What is he getting you to do?”

“Miss Granger… I can’t tell you that.”

Turning on her heel, she glared at him. “Stop calling me that already!" 

“Miss Granger?” He hazarded.

“ _Obviously_ ,” she drew the word out in the manner he himself often did. “I feel like Hermione would be more suitable at this point, don’t you? Besides,” she huffed, “it’s not as if you haven’t used it.”

“I’ve used it when I’ve felt it necessary to gain your full attention.” Severus sighed, feeling rather exasperated with the young woman’s passion this evening. “If that is what you prefer, in private at least, it can be Hermione." 

“Good!” She began her pacing once more. “Do you know what he said to me? He said it was a _game. A GAME!”_

“Hermione, please stop screaming at me.”

“Sorry. Sorry.” She stopped as if she’d ran into a wall and facing him once more, began to tug her hair instead. “I’m not quite sure how you put up with him- he is infuriating.”

Severus smirked, holding his hands up to express that it was beyond him how he managed to deal with the old dotter.

“As if you putting your life at risk is just a game! As if what he’s sending Harry onto is just a game. He won’t even tell Harry the full truth, he’s having him puzzle it out on his own for some sick reason!" 

“As tempted as I am to join in your Dumbledore bashing, Miss Granger-” she glowered at him, “-Hermione, I do not feel it will be largely productive this evening.”

“You won’t tell me what he has set you to do?”

“No. And I am rather incensed that he told you anything. It is certainly far from your burden to bear.”

“You know,” she said, coming to stand over his arm chair, “I have choices too.”

“Of course.”

“And I choose,” she set her hands on the arms of the chair and leaned over, her face but an inch from his own, “to be _here."_  

It took all of Severus’s practiced restraint to keep his body still as it clamoured to reach out, to capture her lips with his own. She spun away in agitation and resumed pacing.

“Okay.”

She whirled back, “Okay you’ll tell me?” 

He closed his eyes briefly, “No, Hermione. Okay, I will stop fighting you. If you want to… whatever it is you want… Okay.” 

She strode over to his desk, pulled open his chocolate drawer and tossed him a frog before savaging the packaging for one herself. She sat in the armchair across from him quietly, turning the chocolate around in her mouth. 

Finally, she said, “I want to be the person who, no matter where we both end up in the coming years, carries faith in you.”

“I fear you’ll rather regret that,” Severus replied, his drawl covering up the very real anxiety.

“I won’t.”

****


	11. Chapter 11

Hermione quietly opened the door, without knocking- as had become the norm- and strode into the office analyzing the drawn look on Severus’s face. It had been a trying evening- he had just found Draco bleeding heavily, a panicked Potter bent over him, trying to place pressure on the cursed wounds.

Since Dumbledore had taken the steps to finalize Hermione’s support, she continued to meet with the professor twice a week in the evenings. Once she became proficient at offering up false memories they began to practice dueling. Hermione was initially ridiculously hesitant. She had, however, in recent weeks become much more ruthless. Severus had begun to have some hope that she would manage to keep not only herself, but the dolts that were her best friends alive.  

“Where did Potter learn that spell, Hermione?”

Severus knew she must be well aware of where Potter had learnt the spell. And, if he had come to know Hermione at all over the past months, she had likely verbally eviscerated Potter for his stupidity in using it. Hermione wavered for a moment. Then she gasped, flushing, and stormed up to his desk slapping a hand down.

“ _From you!”_ she hissed. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that book was not yours! That it isn’t filled with your writing?”

Severus grimaced, “Hermione-”

“ _Fuck_. How did I not realize? I’ve been ragging on him about the dangers of that fucking book all year!” She burned her eyes into his, “What the _fuck_ Snape?”

“Hermione!” Severus stood, slamming his hand down next to hers on the desk, “ _Shut up!_ ”

That did the trick. She backed down, clearly trying to calm her breathing. “I told you I worked on spells for the Dark Lord. I have never pretended to be a saint, Hermione. I don’t know how your idiot friend got his hands on that book but it is too bad that he didn’t listen to your counsel.”

He watched, cautious, as Hermione buried her face in her hands. “Of course. Of course. I’m sorry. I’m really more angry with Harry, truly.”

Shaking his head, he replied, “Dumbledore put you in a poor position.”

“No, Professor,” she said softly. “I put myself in this position, he merely validated the decision.”

Hermione walked around the desk to lay her hand on Severus’s arm and stared up at him sincerely. “And while I may react rashly at times… I promise I believe you.”

Severus heaved a sigh, “Let’s duel, then.” _No better way to release emotions,_ he thought sardonically. 

“Alright,” Hermione said, shaking her hands to loosen up.

“You surprised me with the use of such profanities,” Severus remarked dryly.

“Yes, well,” Hermione gave him a sliver of a smile, “the Weasley’s are rubbing off on me.”

**** 

Releasing her professor from a full body bind curse a week later, Hermione snapped, “You let me do that on purpose!”

Professor Snape rubbed his forehead wearily as he stood, “Believe me, I wish I had such an excuse. That was rather embarrassing.”

He did, in fact, look discomfited. And he had seemed distracted throughout their mock duel this evening as well.

“Tea, then?” She asked. “Enough of this.”

He smirked, “You just want to end on a win." 

“Perhaps,” Hermione replied archly.

She sank into her chair by the fireplace and watched as the professor prepared tea for them. Thanking him as he passed her a cup, she closed her eyes and inhaled the calming scents and appreciating the warmth that spread through her as she took her first sip.

“Hermione, there’s something regarding preparations for the coming times that we have yet to discuss.”

Her eyes flew open, panicked. “There is? We’ve discussed nearly every DADA topic through NEWT levels. I’m practicing my mind barriers every night before bed. I’ve gotten much better at my hexes. With your guidance I was able to complete the undetectable extension charm on my bag!”

“Your family,” Severus replied quietly.

Hermione’s anxiety dwindled rapidly to a lower, but deeper, sense of dread. “Oh.”

“I am truly sorry to tell you this, Hermione, but they will not be safe.”

“No, I know that.”

“Have you considered options?”

Hermione nibbled on her lower lip. “I know I have to send them out of the country. They won’t be happy about it but…”

“I fear that will not be enough. You will be known to be with Harry Potter, Hermione. The Dark Lord will not let national boundaries keep him from finding out where you are.”

The professor’s memory of Dolohov in the half-blood girls home flashed through Hermione’s mind. She could feel herself turn pale. “Of course…”

“I am sorry." 

Looking into Severus’s dark eyes Hermione gave a watery smile, “I know. What- what should I do?”

Hermione listened intently as her professor laid out what he felt to be the best plan to keep her parents safe. There were risks with the plan, of course. But if they were different people all together, at least she could not be the reason her parents were targeted. He braced her, somewhat, with an offer to help restore her parents to her if possible, after the war.

“And Crookshanks? You know I’ve become rather fond of the ridiculous creature.”

At this, Hermione grinned, “Ginny Weasley will take care of him for me, I imagine.”

****


	12. Chapter 12

“Luna,” Hermione whispered, heart racing, “do you trust me?”

“Yes…”

“Good, wait here just a moment. I need to talk to Professor Snape. And- don’t tell anyone… no matter what.”

Hermione swallowed unsteadily as she let herself into the office. Harry had raced through the Gryffindor dormitory and back out again, shoving his felix felicis and the marauders map at them twenty minutes earlier, insisting that whatever was going to happen was happening tonight. Hermione had quickly rallied those few members of the DA who responded and given everyone guard details as per Harry’s request. She had, of course, ensured that she and the person she felt would be most likely to accept her request to see the professor privately would monitor Snape.

“Hermione?” He greeted, eyes questioning.

“Professor,” She rushed to him as he stood to meet her. “Whatever’s happening… it’s coming to a head, I think.” She quickly updated him on all Harry had told her. 

“Yes… it is,” he murmured in response. “Listen, Hermione,” Severus grabbed the young woman by the arms. “When all of this comes to its peak- not tonight, I mean, but truly at the end- you need to make sure Harry finds me and talks to me.”

His use of Harry’s given name impacted her. It was an emphasis of how truly important the need for them to talk must be.

Hermione’s vision began to blur, “The end? Not sooner?”

Severus gave her a rueful smile, “I don’t expect there will be any opportunity between now and then. Regardless, yes, the end.”

“Okay.”

“If, for any reason I can’t talk, I will pass on my memories directly.” Hermione nodded feeling terror at the thought.  “You had better leave, Hermione. It will start soon, I imagine.”

“Yes,” she reached up to wipe away tears. “Be careful, okay?”

“Okay,” he replied solemnly. He reached a hand up, brushing her cheek softly with his knuckles. “Take care, Hermione.”

Swiftly, she placed her hands on his shoulders, and standing on her toes, pressed a kiss to his cheek. With a small gasp, she turned and ran from the room. She’d taken him by surprise, she knew. She was firmly glad she had mustered up the courage to do so, however, as she spent many long minutes pacing the hall with Luna.

Finally, a loud crash sounded and Professor Flitwick came racing around the corner and into Snape’s office. A thud sounded from within and Severus flew out, commanding Luna and Hermione to check on Flitwick’s well being.

Hermione lingered in the hall a moment, watching as Severus backed down the hall away from her. She felt his familiar touch at the entry to her mind and let him in.

_I’m sorry,_ he imparted, impressing his regret on her before he turned and raced down the hall. Hermione stood, overwhelmed with a sense of loss, as she watched his robes billow behind him.

****

In the hospital wing that night, when Harry told them the truth of it all, Hermione clapped her hands over her mouth. She was keening on the inside. Relief washed through her when the phoenix began his song, as if he took the emotions from her and released them into the world.

For the briefest of moments, she had been shocked- devastated. And then her thoughts turned to Dumbledore. _That old shriveled bullocks sucking puppet-master! Fucking senile, demented man! He_ made _him do this._  

Her mind spun around it, looking for flaws in her deduction. No, this was why Dumbledore had called her to his office those weeks ago. Because he needed someone to believe in Severus. And she would. She did.

Crying her way through her explanation to Harry, she felt her heart breaking. She couldn’t tell them. Not yet. Not until after. She thought she might collapse under the burden of it all.

It wasn’t until she had crawled in bed in the early hours of the morning, and drawn her curtains against the sound of Parvati and Lavender’s tears, that she found her sense of fierce determination again. Her knowledge, weight though it may be, was relieving some of the burden from Severus. Because of this, he could walk in his new role knowing she was on his side.

****


	13. Chapter 13

Severus scowled at the ostentatious white peacock as he strode down the lane. Merlin and Morgana, he _hated_ Lucius Malfoy. The door to the house swung open and, after his requisite moment to reinforce his cold demeanor, he entered the dining room. 

 _Charity Burbage._  

With a pang he recalled that Burbage was one of Hermione’s favourite professors. Though she had given up Muggle Studies after third year, he knew Hermione often met Professor Burbage for tea, finding comfort in the fellow muggle born. How absurd, that Hermione had taken Muggle Studies. Charity was a kind woman, he knew. Not that he’d known her well.

Sitting at the table, Severus sat throughout the meeting and played his role. He provided his partially accurate information about the date Harry Potter would be moved. He watched indifferently as Charity Burbage was awakened, dangling above the table. As she begged for his help. As she was murdered. As the vile snake climbed up on the table to pull her away. Inside, he roared.

Now, Severus reminded himself, he played his role not just for the son of Lily. Not just for the memory of Dumbledore, whom he resented as much as he admired. No, he played this role for Hermione. To give her a chance. 

**** 

“We’ll be fine, Hermione,” Ron said steadily as he spun her around the dance floor. It was hard not to believe him in the warm summer night, surrounded by twinkling lights under the soft canopy set up in the meadow next to the Burrow. The wedding had been so beautiful and the love and joy of the family that had taken her under their wing filled Hermione with a hope that had been floundering since Dumbledore’s death. She was exceedingly grateful that Ron had swept her up in a dance, feeling as though things truly were better between the two of them. 

“I mean, the three of us really kicked ass at Hogwarts, right?” Ron continued, “Really- we took down Voldemort in our first _and_ second years. We didn’t do too shabbily during our third or fifth either. And I know how much preparation you’ve put in.”

Hermione gave him a sunny smile, “Thank you, Ronald.”

“Pep talks is what I’m for, right?”

Suddenly Kingsley’s booming voice shouted the warning from a silvery patronus. The ministry has fallen. The ministry has _fallen._ Hermione grasped Ron’s wrist and, panic rising up, located Harry. They raced across to him. Clutching both Ron and Harry, Hermione whispered a quiet prayer for all their loved ones and disapparated.

**** 

“Snape,” Phineaus Nigellus Black’s drawl broke through the silence of the office. 

Severus did not manage to hold back his eagerness as he asked, “Are they there?”

“I don’t know why you should be so excitable over this, it is just that prat Potter, the blood traitor and that _mudblood_.”

“Black,” Severus glowered.

“They are there. The girl took my portrait off the wall and put it in her bag.” Black’s tone was intensely bitter.

 _Clever Hermione._ “Are they safe?”

“They seem to be intact, yes.”

Closing his eyes, Severus relaxed into his chair. “You’ll let me know if there are any updates?”

“I am duty bound to do so,” Black replied, sounding irked.

****

As the first months of the school year passed by and Severus had to spend his time more than ever maintaining a façade, he yearned for knowledge of where Hermione was, of how she was. The time he had been able to spend with her over the last year had bolstered him more than she could ever know. He had felt, for the first time in perhaps his entire life, that he had solid ground to stand upon.

She was clearly fastidious in her precautions around Black’s portrait, not allowing him to overhear so much of a scrap of their conversation. He heard about their break-in to the ministry from the papers, along with everyone else. It seemed they’d stolen a valuable magicked glass eye belonging to none other than Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge. What an absurdity that the woman acted as though every single member of the community wasn’t well aware of who the eye truthfully had belonged to. Merlin, he hoped they had not put themselves at such risk simply to retrieve Mad-Eye’s relic.

Crookshanks paced across his desk top, bumping his head against Severus’s hand as he signed his way through a tower of detention slips.

“I know, I know,” He murmured consolingly. “No word so far, my friend. You’ll be the first to hear."

Crookshanks gave him a rasping mewl and curled himself into a ball, kicking a few items off the desk to accommodate his monstrous girth. The creature had taken to visiting him regularly since Miss Weasley had returned to school with him in tow. Severus thought sadly of how the cat had kept Black company throughout his time as a fugitive, before anyone had known he was, in fact, innocent. With a sigh, Severus accepted that the cat did indeed bring great comfort to him- and it was impossible to argue the parallels of his own situation and that of Black’s those years ago.

**** 

Gentle snores filled the tent. Hermione was grateful that Harry seemed to be getting real sleep this evening. Since obtaining the true locket their progress had initially plateaued, then slid backwards. Between the horcrux, the weather and the lack of substantial food they had depreciated to near zombies. And then Ron had left. They had not mentioned him in weeks.

Slipping out of the tent to sit in the cool night, Hermione pulled the portrait of Phineaus Nigellus Black out of her bag. So far, he had been largely unhelpful- snidely prejudiced with an undertone of lasciviousness in their interactions. He also fished constantly for their whereabouts. She was aware this was likely with the intention of reporting back to Severus Snape, and while she trusted the professor, she did not trust the position that he was currently in- nor did she trust the confidentiality of Phineaus Nigellus.

Hearing about the joke of a punishment Ginny and the others had received after the sword ordeal had swelled Hermione’s heart, however. It was really quite clever of Snape to send them with Hagrid for detention. From what she had gleaned from Black, the Carrows were truly sadistic. She hoped that Severus’s position at the school would, at least, distance him somewhat from Voldemort.

“Professor Black? Could we speak please?”

The painted image appeared with a sneer and she cast the spell to blindfold him.

“Yes?” 

“Could you tell me how Professor Snape is doing, please?”

“I can’t see why this is any of your business. After all, you are simply a renegade muggle-born.”

Appreciative that the portrait could not see her, Hermione rolled her eyes. She truly hated layering on the praising entreaties the portrait expected for any small favour. “Please, Professor Black? I know that Professor Snape wouldn’t mind if you told me. I’m certain he is very grateful for the help you are doing both of us. I understand you are in a difficult position communicating between us when we are unable to tell you the information he seeks.” 

“Funnily enough, I do not receive the impression he is at all grateful.”

 _Of course not, you haven’t been able to tell him anything!_ Hermione thought, feeling both amused and guilty as she imagined Severus’s exchanges with Black.

“Well, _I_ am highly grateful and when this is all over Professor Black, I will make sure Professor Snape realizes what an important role you have played.”

“Well alright, then.” Black replied grumpily, reaching up to adjust his blindfold. “Professor Snape is physically well, though looks tired and rarely sleeps. He is prone to fits of rage but seems to limit them to within the walls of the office. They often occur after the Carrows have come to visit. I suspect he is struggling to maintain control over them. Today he had to remind them who was entrusted to the Headmaster position under the Dark Lord’s orders. And…” Phineaus Nigellus paused, as if enjoying leaving her waiting, “he asks after you on a regular basis, Miss Granger. Though I can’t image why, you’re insufferable.” 

“Well,” Hermione sighed, “Feel free to tell him we are well enough.”

****


	14. Chapter 14

Hermione blinked, groggily. A bright light hovered in front of her face. She pulled back, frightened. A patronus. A doe. 

As she sat up the doe walked to the front of the tent and looked back expectantly. Hermione stood, pulling on her jacket and followed cautiously, wand raised. She lifted the flap of the tent and glanced around, horrified to see that Harry, who had been on watch, was no longer there. His copy of The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore was laying open beside the tent.

_Harry’s patronus is a stag, not a doe_ , Hermione thought panicked.

The doe paused at the edge of the frosty clearing and a familiar figure stepped out of the trees.

Hermione disarmed the man, catching his wand as she stepped outside of her wards so that he could see her. She glanced down to confirm that it was, in fact, his wand. Though that did not mean anything definitive. 

“What were your last words to me?” She demanded tersely.

Severus gave her a soft smile, “Verbally or via legilimency?”

That he had known to ask for such clarification was enough for her. Hermione flew across the clearing and settled against his chest. He stiffened for a moment, seemingly stunned at the reception, then wrapped his arms tightly around her.

He let his head rest against hers, breathing in her scent. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” She whispered. “No, actually. Not really.” She pulled away, realizing there were urgent matters to settle. “Where’s Harry? How did you find us?” 

“Black’s portrait overheard your location. I had something to deliver. Harry’s fine. He is retrieving the sword of Gryffindor from a pond about a mile west. I saw Mr. Weasley, as well earlier… He seemed to be looking for you and Potter?”

“Oh God.” Hermione pressed her hand to her heart briefly and then pulled Severus into the wards of the tent, passing his wand back. “Ron… He left us. Weeks ago. It’s been- oh it’s been so awful!” Hermione dissolved into tears and allowed herself to be held by Severus in the small kitchen of the tent.

“Smells rather badly in here,” Severus remarked.

“Mushrooms,” Hermione smiled slightly as he brushed her hair away from her face. “I never want to see another mushroom in my life. How long can you stay?”

“Longer, I wish. Maybe ten minutes? I must be gone before they return.”

Resting back against his chest Hermione asked, “How are you, Severus?”

She felt his smile against her hair. “You called me Severus.”

“Well you’re not my professor anymore,” she retorted stubbornly.

“I’m managing just fine. Tell me what’s been happening.”

And so, feeling safe, feeling grounded, for the first time in months Hermione said, “It’s been terrible. The only reason Ron left, I’m sure, is- is because we have this awful locket. It’s like, like a piece of _him_. Maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this- I’m sorry. Forget that.”

“Horcruxes,” Severus remarked.

Hermione pulled away to see his face, “You know?”

“Yes,” came the grave reply.

So Hermione delved back in to her story, telling him how the locket retrieved the night Dumbledore died- at this she gave Severus an apologetic look which he dismissed with a quick shake of the head- was a fake. How they were stuck on R.A.B.

“Regulus,” Severus said in a hushed tone.

“You knew him?” 

“We were friends. He- he betrayed the Dark Lord?” 

Hermione nodded, reaching up to cup Severus’s cheek, “Just like you.” The hope in his expression lifted some of the weight she’d been carrying away.

She moved on to tell him how they’d stolen the locket from Umbridge. How close a call it had been. About how stuck they’d become afterwards. How they could not find a way to destroy the locket. The sword would be a tremendous help, she assured. Even so, they had no idea where to search for the next horcrux. She ended with the disaster in Godric’s Hollow.

He clasped her tight to him and whispered, “Thank God you’re alright.”

She allowed her breathing to slow, calming as she began to follow his rhythm. “No advice?”

He snorted derisively, “I wish.” For another long moment they stood in silence. “Thank you, Hermione.” 

Drawing away slightly, Hermione gave him a searching look. Then she reached up, pulled his face to her and kissed him. She poured every emotion she’d had in the past year into her kiss and felt a wave of gratitude as Severus responded in kind.

When, reluctantly, he pulled away she whispered, “Just in case one of us dies.”

Severus cupped her face in both hands and met her eyes evenly. “Stay safe,” he instructed, pressing a kiss on her lips before turning away and leaving.

When Ron walked into the tent with Harry ten minutes later Hermione lost all control of her anger. Poor Ron, she realized after she had calmed, received the punching end of a rage that was more in response to the cruelty of fate than his own poor choices.

****


	15. Chapter 15

Wound tight, Hermione wandered through the forest nearby their warded camp. She had tied a piece of red ribbon on a tree by the tent front so she could find it after. While her goal had been to search for more edible mushrooms, she found that really she was just pacing to relieve her anxiety. It was just a few days after the disastrous visit to the Lovegood home and she had not been able to calm since.

She wasn’t certain what it was about the concept of the Elder Wand that scared her so much. The idea the Voldemort wanted it was certainly formidable. But it had been lost to history, hadn’t it? Perhaps it was the fact that Harry and Ron were so focused on it that scared her the most. At least, she though ruefully, Ron had chosen her side when she’d pushed for his back up. Though, she knew, that was only because he felt he had a great deal of work to get back on good terms with her.

Seeing Severus had strengthened her resolve when she thought she was about as ready as Ron had been to call it quits. Finishing off the locket and obtaining the sword had also helped considerably. But now they were trapped at a dead end of the maze again. Turning circles around the scarce clues and ideas they had. _The cup. The snake. And one more- a relic of Ravenclaw?_

Heaving a sigh, Hermione returned to the tent, where Ron was calling out that he had just accessed Potterwatch on the radio. But then, quickly, they were back to arguing. 

Hermione yelled at Harry, panicked, as he broke the taboo and the sounds of apparition crackled around them. 

Shooting Harry with a jinx, Hermione turned to Ron and was about to change the colour of his hair before she was disarmed. She struggled to keep her breathing calm and even as the Snatchers raided their tent and restrained them.

Greyback whispered lascivious comments to her, making her irritation in response to Phineaus Nigellus seem like a large over-reaction in comparison. Flashes of the memories she had seen in Severus’s mind made her stomach turn. Greyback, she remembered, had been the one who turned Lupin and had left Bill with violent red scars across his face. Discovering that Dean and his goblin companion were already caught only increased her dread. 

She focused on maintaining her occlumency barriers as they questioned them each in turn. Using the false name she had practiced with her professor would, she knew, make its way to his ear eventually. She prayed he would not do anything rash in response.

But then, all too quickly, it did not matter anymore. One of the Snatchers had recognized her from a copy of the Prophet they had on hand. She is of the top ten _Undesirables_. She fought not to vomit as they were pulled along in dissapparation and reappeared in front of wrought iron gates. As they were pulled up the lane she caught a glimpse of what appeared to be the ghost of a peacock. 

They were shoved into the front hall. Draco Malfoy was summoned. _God,_ Hermione thought, bewildered, as Malfoy pretended he could not confirm their identities, _he must be so terrified._  

She could no longer spare thoughts for anyone but herself, Harry and Ron, however. They needed to get out. Now. Her mind began rapidly filing through everything she had ever learnt. She had practiced a few wandless spells under Professor Snape’s tutelage, but she wasn’t confident enough in her ability to successfully cast one. Such a misstep in this situation would not lend a second chance.

Bellatrix Lestrange strode in, cold commanding demeanor escalating the tension in the room. Hermione watched as her eyes caught the sword of Gryffindor which the Snatchers had picked up in delight. The rapid change in Bellatrix’s disposition frightened Hermione more than anything. 

Her friends were shuttled away by Greyback, who directed one last, lewd comment at her. Bellatrix bent over Hermione, asking silkily if she wouldn’t save herself some pain and just come out with how they had gotten the sword. 

“We just found it,” Hermione whispered, putting all her effort into waving a false memory before her mental wall. If Bellatrix saw Severus, Hermione had signed his death certificate. She could feel Bellatrix poking roughly at her mind and the touch of cold metal against her collarbone.

Suddenly, Bellatrix bent over the length of her body. Long, wild hair blanketed Hermione’s vision, strands dipping into her mouth, tasting of smoke. Hermione had the impression that Bellatrix was finding the experience of questioning her sensual. 

A scream wrenched from her chest as pain sliced down her arm. Bellatrix was holding her head down with a hand wrapped around her chin, but Hermione slid her eyes to see Bellatrix cutting adjoining lines into her arm. Writing, it seemed.

“ _Mudblood_ ,” Bellatrix hissed. She backed away and yelled, “Crucio!” 

****


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Temporary Ground is up to 50 subscribers! I just want to take a moment to thank all of you for your feedback and for following the story that has my heart! I am so grateful that my story has found some people who take enjoyment from it and I hope you all enjoy the final chapters ahead.

Hermione woke to the feeling of mist on her face, the taste of salt on her tongue.

“What zee ‘ell happened?” A familiar voice questioned urgently.

“We were captured. Brought to Malfoy Manor.” Ron replied tersely. “Bellatrix Lestrange tortured her-”

Hermione felt sad hearing the break in Ron’s voice. She remembered him screaming her name, panicked. She was not sure quite what had happened or how they had left Malfoy Manor but as her eyes flitted open she recognized Fleur with a sense of boundless relief. 

“Hermione…” Ron whispered, tightening his arms around her as he began to walk. “It’s ok. It’s ok. We’re at Bill and Fleur’s. It’s gonna be ok.”

Hermione nodded weakly and faded away again.

She was woken an uncertain amount of time later by Ron. He told her that Dobby had somehow come to rescue them. That he had freed Luna and Ollivander along with Dean and Griphook the goblin from the Malfoys basement. That he had then come back to help Harry and Ron after they’d stormed up to the parlor to rescue Hermione and repossess their wands.

Dobby, he said sadly, had been killed- but not before he’d gotten the three of them to safety. Harry, it seemed was having a bit of a mental break in response to this and had been digging a grave by hand all night. It was time for his burial, Ron told her softly, asking if she felt up for it. 

Throat growing tight Hermione nodded urgently. She would make it. Poor Dobby.

Poor, poor Dobby. He’d worn every one of the hats and socks Hermione had knitted during her zealous S.P.E.W. years. He’d been free to make his own choices, just as she always reminded Severus she was free to do. And he had died for them.

Ron passed her into Fleur’s care and went to help Harry finish his digging. Fleur helped Hermione, stiff from the lasting effects of the Cruciatus Curse, out of her dirty clothes and into a flowery bathrobe.

Hermione paused and stared at her left forearm. _MUDBLOOD._

She must have passed out for a period of time between the first few cuts and the _crucio_ that she remembered, Hermione realized. She had no recollection of each letter being carved so neatly into her.

“I am sorry, Hermione,” Fleur whispered, distraught, “I had dittany, but that was all I could do.”

“It’s okay,” Hermione replied faintly. “It’s okay.”

**** 

_Thank Merlin for Pepper-Up Potion_ , Hermione thought as she sat between Harry and Ron listening first to Griphook, then to Ollivander. She felt a chill sink in to her core as Ollivander confirmed the likely existence of the Elder Wand, the Deathstick. As they left to discuss their gleanings amongst themselves, Hermione’s mind raced a few steps beyond Harry’s. Gregorovitch to Grindelwald, Grindelwald to Dumbledore, Dumbledore to _\- Severus_.

“It’s too late,” Harry said. Voldemort had taken the wand from Dumbledore’s tomb.

_Small blessing,_ Hermione thought. If Voldemort thought that he could take the wand from Dumbledore in such a way and have it be under his full control, maybe- maybe that was true. Maybe it didn’t matter that Dumbledore had died at Severus’s hand. Or perhaps, because he had been killed under his own orders the ownership of the wand ended with Dumbledore. Regardless, if the wand did not perform as Voldemort expected it to… Severus would no doubt be considered easily disposable.

Feeling sick, Hermione wondered if Severus had any idea. Last steps in this game, Dumbledore had told her. End the game.

****

Severus strode back to the castle, leaving the Dark Lord just inside the gates of the school grounds. Events were moving quickly now, dangerously. The Dark Lord had been curt with him, clearly agitated and focused on an unknown goal. He had, however, disdainfully told Severus that Harry Potter and his companions had just escaped capture at Malfoy Manor. They were all punished severely, the Dark Lord reassured Severus. Their only saving grace was that Bellatrix Lestrange had, at least, tortured the mudblood girl. It was not much, but it might impair Potter’s ability to make a move for awhile.

As Severus threw open his office door he yelled, “ _Black_!”

Phineaus Nigellus sidled into his frame, “The girl asked me to tell you she is fine.”

Severus leant back against the door, eyes closed.

**** 

“Hermione?” Fleur asked gently, “Will you join me in the garden? The fresh air will help, I think, with recovery.”

Giving Fleur a soft smile in response, Hermione followed her out. Sweet peas climbed romantically up the picket fence surrounding the garden. The sea shimmered just beyond. Hermione inhaled the soft scents and closed her eyes to focus on absorbing the warmth of the sunlight.

“Really,” Fleur acknowledged, “I am just wanting to see how you are doing. You ‘ave all been ‘ere many days now. I see you are looking ‘ealthier, but… more sad, I think.”

“Oh,” Hermione tugged on her sleeves, embarrassed, “I am feeling much better. Thank you for all your kindness.”

Fleur, in all her stunning beauty looked at Hermione as if she were reading her soul. “There are many things to be sad about, I know. But it does not seem to me that you are sad about your scars, or your planning. It seems to me something else. Love.”

Focusing intently on the view of the sea, Hermione flushed. She couldn’t pinpoint when Fleur’s observation had become true. But it was true. Some time in that last beautiful, snowy winter back at Hogwarts she supposed.

“Ah, yes.” Fleur said.

“It’s not Ron or Harry,” tumbled out of Hermione’s mouth awkwardly.

“No?” 

“It’s… someone else. He is in a very dangerous position right now.”

“As are you, I think.” 

“I suppose.”

“Love can bring great strength,” Fleur remarked staring intently at the sea. “Neither Bill nor I would be as brave as we are without one another. But it is also frightening… to ‘ave so much of your ‘eart with another while they risk themselves…” 

“Yes,” Hermione’s response was so quiet, she wasn’t sure Fleur could hear it. She allowed herself to sink in to Fleur’s embrace, shedding tears for the first time since their arrival at the cottage.

A few hours later Lupin, flushed and ecstatic burst in announcing the birth of his son. Small blessings.

****


	17. Chapter 17

It was Severus that Hermione thought of as she dropped a long black hair into the potion and threw it back with a gag. She focused on her memory of his admittance that she was his best student-when she had made him laugh- as her limbs lengthened and her joints popped. She opened her eyes again and saw Harry shiver slightly.

She briskly went about transfiguring aspects of Ron’s appearance and they set off. It took her awhile to sink into playing such a deplorable character. Harry warned her she was too polite to the barman at the Leaky Cauldron. Ron had to save face for her when she was confronted by a distraught man from whom, it seemed, Bellatrix had kidnapped children.

Then there was Travers- thank God that Griphook had known his name. Hermione thought to how Severus had managed to play the double agent so successfully all this time and drew up a contemptuous attitude in her response to the man. She mustered up all her strength to maintain the façade rather than sinking into panic as they entered Gringotts, confounding the guards. 

At the counter it became devastatingly clear that the goblins had been warned there might be an imposter- one with Bellatrix Lestrange’s wand. She heard Harry mutter “ _Imperio”_ twice and prayed he had strong enough intent for the spells to hold.

It was ridiculous, really, that for the briefest of moments Hermione thought the cart ride to the the Lestranges’s vault of all the events that day was the most frightening and likely to lead to her demise. Never mind that there was a bank full of angry goblins above her- the cart wheeled so sharply around each turn she thought she’d fly over the edge and fall forever downwards. The waterfall that poured down with all the force of a train cleared her head as it swept her into her own body once more.

The next ten minutes passed more quickly than any of Hermione’s life. She managed to preserve her cool head- lifting Harry to capture the cup, trying unsuccessfully to make them impervious to the burning of the Gemino and Flagrante cursed gold, stupefying a hoarde of goblins. And then - there was Harry, climbing up on a god forsaken _dragon._

After they had finally, finally managed to jump off the dragon and crawl to a lakeshore Hermione had a moment to think. If Ron hadn’t made his quip about having been noticed during their not-so-smooth break in, she might just have had a full on break down. Instead, they all laughed uncontrollably for several minutes. Harry was the first to go silent.

“He knows,” Harry told them in a low voice. And, he informed them, the last horcrux was at Hogwarts.

It’s coming to an end, Hermione thought with a strange mix of dread and relief.

****

Severus stood in the Entry Hall, still and quiet, preparing for what was to come. He had just returned from his call to the Dark Lord. The school must be guarded, he was instructed. Potter would be coming soon, very soon. He and his _friends_ \- the word was used derisively- had, in fact, just flown out of Gringotts bank on the back of a dragon with an item of great value. The Dark Lord left Severus, taking the loathsome snake with him.

_Fuck_ , Severus thought. He wasn’t sure what in Merlin’s name they’d been thinking, making a move like that but he fiercely hoped they had at least retrieved the horcrux that must have been within one of the most guarded vaults.

Soon, Severus knew, they would be here. Not just Harry Potter, but Hermione. He wished desperately there were a way he could keep her safe. He placed the Carrows in the Ravenclaw common room as per instructions and returned to the Entry Hall where he idly pretended to guard whilst praying he wouldn’t have to stop the Carrows from killing any students before the inevitable battle began.

His mark burned and he cursed. Either that psychotic bitch had really caught Potter or she was going to put the Dark Lord in such a rage she would end tonight incinerated. He began to climb towards the Ravenclaw tower.

There was Minerva, striding down the hall followed by the sound of more footprints than there were feet. As she noticed him and demanded he make himself known he hoped Hermione was not under that blasted cloak.

He stepped forward. He just needed to maintain this farce, this façade, a little longer. Just a little longer until he could pass his message on to Potter. In the meantime, he must allow Minerva to take control over the castle, to protect it while he pretends to have been overpowered due to the Carrows’s grave misstep. If he blamed it on them he might be able to survive just long enough tonight.

As he ran, Minerva screaming accusations of cowardice after him, he wondered if someone would be able pass on his true story after this all ended.

****


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter has a few lines of speech taken directly from Deathly Hallows. You can differentiate them from original content as they have been italicized. We are getting near the end, I hope you all enjoy it!

Voldemort’s chilled voice echoed even through the bowels of the Chamber of Secrets. Hermione shuddered, wrapping her free arm more tightly around Ron as they shot on a broom back through the tunnel to Myrtle’s bathroom with several basilisk fangs clutched in their free hands. They had to find Harry. Hopefully his mission had been as successful as their own.

Already, this day had been so full of pain. They’d lost the sword, for one. Then she’d listened as Aberforth told them his story, Dumbledore’s story. While part of her could not help but agree that Dumbledore had used Harry, had used so many people, she defended him. Harry needed, she knew, to feel the truth of Dumbledore having loved him. And he had, she was sure of that much. But, she felt, he also put the ends above the means. 

When they found Harry finally, he told them triumphantly where the diadem was. Hermione, despite being nearly delirious with fatigue felt the impact of adrenaline as they kicked Ginny out of the Room of Requirement and commenced their search. As Malfoy and his lackies began to fight them Hermione ducked a curse, searching frantically. A fire roared unnaturally through the room, consuming hundreds of years of detritus. Ron scooped her up behind him on a broom. Then, noticing why Harry wasn’t following, they returned for Goyle. Eventually skittering back into the hallway, Hermione gasped deeply.

She was about to suggest they try the room again when she noted the large, charred ring around Harry’s arm.  _Oh thank God._

It was scarcely five minutes later that Hermione was wrapping her arms around a sobbing Ron, trying to prevent him from chasing after his brothers. This day was too long.  _Fred_. The loss vibrated through her like the low, mourning toll of a church bell.  _The snake, we need to get the snake._

_“He’s in the Shrieking Shack,”_ Harry gasped. _“The snake’s with him, it’s got some sort of magical protection around it. He’s just sent Lucius Malfoy to find Snape.”_

Deep, rumbling dread grew up inside her.  _“He’s not- he’s not even fighting?”_  she shrieked in indignation. Voldemort wasn’t going to fight. He  _was_ going to kill Severus.

“Harry,” Hermione said urgently, “There’s something you need to know.”

She was still clinging to Ron. He went slack against her, no longer struggling to join the battle.

“Harry, Snape has something he needs to tell you. Something he needs to say before- before this… ends.” She watched Harry’s eyes widen in mistrust, “I’m sorry I hadn’t told you sooner. Both Professor Snape and Dumbledore told me to make sure… to make sure you would know to let him tell you. That he was always on our side, on your side. But it couldn’t happen- it couldn’t happen until the end.” 

Hermione had not realised how terribly, terribly guilty she would feel when the time came for this admission. She was just playing her part, making sure the last steps in the game could be made.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, eyes downcast.

Harry grabbed her shoulders firmly, even as Ron still held her in his arms. “Hermione, it’s okay. Let’s go.”

****

Severus entered the Shrieking Shack, remembering his last visit to the horrid place. This would likely be the place of his death, he knew.  _I’m sorry, Hermione_ , he thought regretfully. He hoped she would know that much. It would all come down to sharing his memories, now. There would be no opportunity to talk. Maybe, he considered, he could share one memory of Hermione at the end. Something Harry could pass on to her, if they made it. So she could know how very much she mattered.

****

Under the cloak Hermione, Harry and Ron began to race for the doors of the castle. Furious duels were taking place all along the cramped halls. The castle itself, it seemed, was joining in. Portraits screamed warnings and encouragements, suits of armour swung ornamental swords with impressive force. Hermione screamed as she saw Greyback savagely dive for Lavender, hitting him with a curse she hoped had killed.

Suddenly, she and Ron were chasing Harry out onto the grounds as he pursued Hagrid, who had been swarmed by the Acromantulas he had been trying to protect. She felt sick. Harry pulled up   short as they neared the Whomping Willow in the middle of the grounds, no longer able to run.

A sense of being sucked away from her surroundings came upon Hermione. The sounds of the battle were now very far away, almost as if they were simply playing over a radio turned down quiet. The light dimmed, though it seemed that was more a matter of her eyes no longer working.  _There’s no point_ , Hermione realized.  _Severus is probably already dead. We will be too, soon enough._

Then she rallied, _No!_  She tried to pull up a patronus, but couldn’t. She had never been strong at them. She cried for Harry to conjure one.  _Please Harry, please!_

Finally, animals of silver, pure light streaking behind them, bounded by. Luna, Ernie and Seamus, thank God. Harry managed to conjure his own, then, with Luna’s encouragement. “ _We’re still fighting,”_ she said. 

_Yes,_ Hermione thought.  _Yes._

Making it, finally, to the entrance of the tunnel Hermione shoved the cloak at Harry and told him to go first. Really, she wanted to shove him out of the way and burst into the shack, fire and brimstone. But no, Harry needed to talk to Severus, if there was the opportunity.

Her heart pounded in a cold distant way as she crawled behind him. Since the dementors had been banished she had recovered her sense of determination. This was going to end. It was going to end  _tonight,_ she knew.

Hermione caught a glimpse of Nagini floating, undulating in a starry bubble before she squeezed into a crevice of the wall not far behind where she knew Harry kneeled, invisible. She could no longer see what was occurring in the shack. She could hear though. She wondered if Harry doubted her as she listened to Severus offer again and again to go retrieve Harry from the battle and bring him to Voldemort. He was hoping to be able to talk to Harry yet. He would not plead for his life, she was sure. Hermione felt proud, knowing how brave he was right until the end.

An unnatural hiss sounded- Hermione was certain it was Voldemort himself, not the snake. And then a scream that wrest her heart apart echoed down the tunnel. For several achingly long moments they waited, unmoving. Then Harry, with whatever view he had, felt it safe to creep into the shack. Hermione scrambled after him.

She found Severus’s face, deathly pale and recognized memories tumbling out like tears. She conjured a flask and passed it to Harry as Severus whispered, “ _Take it.”_

Harry stared into Severus’s eyes for a moment and then Hermione yanked at him urgently, “Harry you need to take it and  _go!_ ”

Harry’s eyes widened as he bent to collect the memories, “You’re not coming?”

“No!” She hissed, “I need to- I need to try.” Harry nodded his understanding and she pulled him into a tight hug, “I love you. Now  _go!_ ”

He did as told. Ron, who had not left the tunnel entry, turned to take the lead whispering hoarsely for Hermione to be safe as he glanced over his shoulder. She met his gaze for a lingering moment before saying softly, “I love you both. Be careful.”

Hermione turned back quickly. She ripped off her jumper and, bending over Severus held it against the gaping wound at his neck. She saw his eyes flicker in recognition before they began to glaze over. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” she whispered as she wrenched open her bag and summoned her dittany. There was no time to cleanse, she knew. If he made it, they would just have to fight any infection he might have trapped in the wound at that point. She poured the bottle sloppily around his neck and watched as the ragged skin wove itself back together. It was with an unsettlingly detached interest that she saw a large vein neatly reattach itself and begin pulsing weakly. God, there was so much blood.

_“Accio Blood Replenisher!”_ She hissed, catching the bottle and forcing Severus’s mouth open to pour a few drops in.

Hermione sat back on her heels and took a deep breath. Then, focusing on not moments but bits of intangible emotions from her hours spent with Severus since that October so long ago, she conjured a patronus. From the tip of her wand flew not her usual partially formed otter but a clear raven. She hadn’t been sure she could manage to make it speak when she first went to cast the spell, but now she knew it would carry her message.

As it flew away she turned back to Severus, holding his cool face between her hands.

“Don’t you die on me. I don’t care if you’d rather. Don’t you die on me.”

Voldemort’s second announcement rang in the air. They had one hour. One hour to care for their injured and their dead. One hour for Harry to give himself up.

****


	19. Chapter 19

Hermione had never been so grateful in her life as she was when Poppy Pomfrey came rushing in the shack. She had spent the few minutes before trying to prepare an argument for why Madam Pomfrey, should in fact, try to save Severus. She did not need to use it.

Pomfrey promptly dropped to her knees next to him, pulling Hermione’s sweater away to assess the wound.

“Dittany?” She asked curtly. Hermione nodded. “Blood Replenisher?”

“Five drops,” Hermione replied hoarsely.

“Good.”

Madam Pomfrey stood and cast a spell to create a protective bubble around Severus. The same spell that Voldemort had cast around his snake, evidently. As Hermione took in the sparkling dome she began to giggle hysterically at the irony of it all.

Madam Pomfrey whirled around to look at Hermione hawkishly. Then slapped her briskly. 

“Sorry. Merlin. Sorry,” Hermione stuttered, snatching up her bag and following Madam Pomfrey up to the castle grounds.

As they entered the Great Hall Hermione dug her nails into her palms. The tables had all been removed. There was a line of unmoving bodies surrounded by mourners at one end. Not far off was a haggard group of injured fighters and their flustered companions working healing spells. Madam Pomfrey settled Severus to the ground at the end of this line.

Several eyes followed them warily. Many others were too caught up in their own grief to notice anything short of Voldemort himself. Hermione glanced anxiously at the gathering of the Weasleys. Witnessing their grief was almost too much to bear. 

Bill detached himself from his family, frowning as he strode up to Hermione.

“What is he doing here?”

“He’s injured,” she replied tightly.

“He is a Death Eater. He cursed off George’s ear! And you bring him to be _healed_? Next to the body of my brother? Next to the bodies of Remus and Tonks?”

Hearing of Remus and Tonks in such an abrupt manner was a blow to her very core. Hermione took a slow breath, drew herself up and stepped towards Bill. Madam Pomfrey, she knew, was ignoring this altercation intently focused on her work. “He was _not_ a death eater at the end, Bill. He was a spy. And we _are_ going to save him-” Her voice cracked pitifully.

Ron stepped up, laying a gentle hand on Bill’s arm. “It’s okay, Bill.” 

“I’m sorry, Ron. I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” he whispered, giving her a firm hug as Bill huffed in disgust and returned to their family.

**** 

It must have been towards the end of that long hour that Voldemort’s voice resounded once more through the castle.

“ _Harry Potter is dead.”_

Her heart, already fractured, shattered into uncountable tiny fragments. _No._ She should have been with him. She shouldn’t have let him go. Voldemort claimed he was running. Such lies. Harry, she knew, couldn’t have ran even if he desperately wanted to. More than likely, a large part of him _had_ wanted to.

So. Harry was dead. Severus was dying. And, even if he survived as Harry hadn’t, he would wish he had died.

Hermione walked numbly to Ron, who wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they walked out to the front steps of the castle. She wondered for a moment why they were doing such a thing. To see the proof, she supposed. The movement, though, was tantamount to surrender.

She screamed, along with so many others as they saw the truth of it. Harry, limp in Hagrid’s arms. Hagrid sobbing uncontrolledly. Now it was Ron who held her from running forward. Voldemort screamed for silence, and like a nightmare, no one could make a sound more.

She watched in numb terror as Neville stepped forward to fight. As the sorting hat was forced on to his head and he was set alight. _Brave Neville, your parents would be proud._ Suddenly arrows began to fly and Grawp came running. Everyone was thrown back in to battle. Out of the corner of her eye, as she left Ron’s embrace to dodge a hex, she saw Neville swing the sword of Gryffindor. Nagini’s head flew in the air. _Thank you, Neville._ She recognized dimly the sound of Hagrid bellowing for Harry but focused her attention on Bellatrix Lestrange who, it seemed, had sought her out and was pushing her into the castle once more.

Soon, Ginny and Luna joined her in battling Lestrange. Hermione smiled tightly at them in thanks. Mrs. Weasley quickly barged in, commanding they get out of the way. Hermione backed away hesitantly, assessing her surroundings.  Most of the duels that had begun after the centaurs joined the battle were petering out. The death eaters were running low on troops, it seemed, and all attention was being drawn between Mrs. Weasley fighting Bellatrix and, nearby, Voldemort and his three opponents.

As Bellatrix fell, Hermione watched in terror as Voldemort turned, a lethal rage on his face, towards Molly Weasley. As soon as the _Protego_ sprang into existence Hermione knew. _Harry._  

She began to back deliberately across the room, towards where Severus lay. She prayed he would remain unnoticed, preparing herself to defend him if needed. Even as she readied herself, a sense of triumph filled her. She listened to Harry explain it all to Voldemort. They were all protected, as Harry had been, by a sacrifice made of love. With Harry’s death Voldemort had sealed his own fate.

There was more, though. Severus Snape had not been Voldemort’s. Not in the end and not for a long, long time. The Elder Wand was not Voldemort’s, either. It had never been Severus’s, after all, but Draco’s. And Harry had overpowered Draco. The Elder Wand was _Harry’s_.

Hermione crouched down next to Severus and met Madam Pomfrey’s eyes. They echoed back restrained exultation. This was coming to an end. And the win would be Harry’s. Hermione clung tightly to Severus’s hand, it was comfortingly warm, despite everything. She held her breath dizzily.

And then Voldemort’s body thumped lifeless to the ground. Hermione set down Severus’s hand gently and raced to Harry, holding him tightly as first Ron, then many more people, piled on. _It’s over, it’s over._

****


	20. Chapter 20

It took Severus four days to regain consciousness. It was another five before he could make verbalization of any sort and a total of ten before he could engage in a conversation. Immediately after the battle he’d been administered the antivenom to Nagini’s unique poison, which was developed after her attack on Arthur Weasley. The best healers and tissue specialists from Continental Europe had graced the Hogwart’s hospital wing to care for him. Being pronounced a war hero by the Chosen One came with such benefits.

Hermione had not left his side for longer than thirty minutes throughout this time. Professor McGonagall had informed her that Headmaster Snape had continued to sleep in his dungeon quarters throughout the year and so Hermione retrieved a large pile of his books and had been reading them out loud. When she was too exhausted to continue Madam Pompfrey made her a bed alongside Severus’s, knowing Hermione would refuse to leave.

Harry had taken on the role of staunchly defending Severus to anyone who questioned, Hermione was glad to leave that to him. She was still too scared. Still feeling the potential loss too keenly.

She had made the necessary comment to the media alongside Harry and Ron. Her gratitude for the two young men stronger than ever as they wrapped their arms around her, helping her stand tall and proud on the front steps of the castle. They had kept the statement brief, acknowledging their actions over the year destroying the dark magic that left Voldemort clinging to life (it was decided amongst the order that it would be best not to spread news of the Horcruxes specifically), the truth of Harry’s having willingly met Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest and his success in killing the man on their return to the castle. Harry had affirmed that Severus was always fighting for him and freedom from the Dark Lord’s reign. Hermione acknowledged her awareness of this fact throughout the war. Kingsley stepped up and discussed the actions that would be taken moving forward to reform the ministry and root out any remaining corruption and Death Eaters.

The Quibbler would be receiving exclusive interviews with each member of the “Golden Trio” within the month. Harry had been forgiving of Xenophilius Lovegood. The Daily Prophet did not receive such generosity.

It was only when Severus bluntly asked Hermione to give him the details of her time since they’d last seen one another that she even mentioned anything related to the war in his presence. She’d focused her conversation on the books she’d been reading, random childhood memories and any other inane subject she could think of. Steering clear of the war meant avoiding some topics that were not only leaden with grief but heavily impactful on the future. Severus had allowed this for a period of time, likely Hermione knew, for the same reasons she was hanging on to. When he finally asked and glowered menacingly at her hesitation she took her time in making them each some tea before settling in to tell the tale. Being that Severus was still bed bound, she knew he was beginning to get stir crazy and trying to treat him like an invalid would do no one well.

She spoke of their visit to the Lovegood home, focusing more on the Death Eater’s arrival than the tale of the Deathly Hallows. Their capture by the snatcher’s and the events at Malfoy Manor was also something she skimmed over, acknowledging that Bellatrix had kept her to attempt legilimency and that her false memories had held up well but avoiding details of her treatment. Severus maintained his well practiced, reserved mask throughout her story.  

Breaking into Gringotts Bank deserved a fully detailed narration, however. Severus seemed particularly interested in the story, having apparently been panicked upon first hearing about the events. Hermione told Severus how very distasteful it had been to pretend to be Bellatrix, noting in an off handed manner that she had thought to how he was able to channel his skills in such a roll. She was, as well, rather proud of her bravery and ability to remain collected throughout the process-even riding a dragon.

“Thank you for thinking to tell Black’s portrait that you were alright after the Manor,” Severus said quietly.

Hermione looked at him for a long moment, recognizing some degree of vulnerability in his expression. “Of course,” she replied. 

“Actually,” Hermione added with a rueful smile, “You owe him a thank you, now. I had to do a lot of buttering up to get him to continue passing on any messages. He said you were rather coarse with him.”

She continued on to explain their conversation with Aberforth and how they had gotten in to Hogwarts, their trip to the Chamber of Secrets, Harry’s discovery of the diadem and the disastrous run in with Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle in the Room of Requirement. Hermione noticed a flicker of emotion at this, as well. He genuinely cared for Draco, she knew.

She skipped over much of the battle, mentioning only the highlights of how Harry and Ron had received the news that she had a message from Dumbledore regarding Severus and their trust in her. She was a little ashamed when she became teary at this, recognizing how deeply she had betrayed their trust and that they had moved past it so surely, so easily. She skipped the moments in the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack entirely, as well as every moment up until Voldemort arrived at the castle with Hagrid carrying Harry’s body.

The great triumphs of Neville killing that damned snake, the centaurs joining in the fight, Kreacher leading the house elves into battle in the name of Regulus she exalted unabashedly. Hearing of the impact Regulus had had, she knew, would hearten Severus. Hermione told him how she had fought Bellatrix alongside Ginny and Luna, and how Molly Weasley had jumped in with fury and ended the fight. How Harry had cast a shield to protect her from Voldemort’s wrath, revealing himself to be alive. She repeated how Harry had told the Dark Lord that he was wrong about so, so many things. Harry had outlined the many layers of protection that Voldemort had unwittingly given Harry and how he had, really, brought about his own end. Finally, she told Severus of how Tom Riddle had flopped to the ground in a solid, plain and permanent way.

At some point, Hermione had unwittingly pushed the sleeves of her jumper up. Concern and anger coloured Severus’s face as he ran his eyes down her left arm.

“Hermione…” He said, his tone tinged with anger.

She heaved a sigh, “It’s from Bellatrix, at the Manor. I didn’t want to tell you.”

“Why?” He snapped. 

“Because I knew it would upset you and if I had to get the story out, I wanted to get the story out.” She paused, watching him brew furiously. “She’s dead, Severus,” Hermione reminded gently.

“I wish she weren’t!” Severus closed his eyes for a long moment and added, “There are healers who could remove that scar, Hermione.”

She set her chin stubbornly, looking fiercely into his dark eyes, “I don’t want it removed.”

He stared intently back at her, then nodded curtly. He understood, Hermione suspected, her feeling that she had earned the right to wear it proudly.

Severus leaned his face downwards, allowing his hair to shield it, “Why have you done all this?”

Hermione took scarcely a moment to reply, knowing exactly what he meant. “Well, I’m in love with you,” she said bluntly, feeling as though the words came out on their own accord rather than hers, apparently deciding it was time to be out with it.  

After a long moment he met her eyes once more. “Hermione,” he said warningly.

“Don’t,” she replied sharply, then turned to the knock at the door.

Harry stood there looking a little nervous, “Am I interrupting?”

“No,” she sighed walking to Harry and squeezing his shoulder affectionately, “I should go check on how Ron and Ginny are, anyway.” 

Before she strode from the room, she turned to give Severus a meaningful look. This was not over.

****


	21. Chapter 21

_Gryffindors,_ Severus thought irritably.

He was so conflicted by Hermione’s admission that he could barely focus on the young man before him, who looked highly anxious, but determined all the same. Severus had become very adept at shoving conflicting emotions down to a place where they no longer mattered, but they seemed to be bubbling up quite uncontrollably now that the war was over. The war he had not intended to survive.

“Harry,” he greeted quietly.

“First name? I’m honoured,” Harry quipped, looking relieved.

Severus sneered, “Don’t think this means I like you.”

“Wouldn’t dream it. In fact, I imagine you like me less than ever, given that I’m privy to everything I am, now. I want to thank you, for everything. You were in an incredibly tenuous position- bravery worthy of Godric himself.”

Severus was fairly certain Harry had intended to needle him with the comment. 

“Also…  I’m sorry I was always so… rude.” Harry sat himself comfortably in the chair Hermione had just vacated and broke apart a chocolate bar, handing Severus a piece. Severus wondered if Hermione had betrayed his love of chocolate to Harry, hoping to give her friend a competitive advantage.

“I hear you’ve also been defending my valour to anyone who cares to listen,” Severus replied sullenly, accepting the chocolate.

“Yes, well, hard not to.”

To this, Severus did not reply, simply deepening his scowl. Finally, he asked, “Hermione wouldn’t tell me the truth of everything that happened. Would you fill in the blanks?”

So Harry told Severus exactly what had happened with Xenophilius Lovegood, at Malfoy Manor, and his perspective of Hermione’s confession regarding Severus and watching Voldemort attempt to kill him. He told him how Hermione had said goodbye to Harry and Ron and sent them away while she stayed at the shack with Severus.

He told how he had watched Severus’s memories alone and then slipped from the castle to go to meet his fate. How very, fucking terrified he had been. How he had used the Resurrection Stone. How Lily had walked with him.

He shared the details of his meeting with Dumbledore in that other place; how it had filled in his understanding on how multilayered everything was- the protection of love, how Voldemort had kept Harry from dying when he had used Harry’s blood in that Graveyard those years ago, the Elder Wand and its true owner.

Severus listened silently as Harry talked of pretending to be dead while Hagrid carried him to the castle. Of watching, pained, as Neville was on fire. Of his moment of opportunity. And, finally, of the confrontation and Voldemort’s death. And then Harry began to cry. 

“I’m-I’m sorry Professor, I haven’t told anyone the whole of it.”

Severus couldn’t help but soften at this. Harry had much of his father, yes, but he also had a lot of Lily.

He sighed deeply, “Harry, I may not have gotten along very well with your father,” Harry smiled slightly at this understatement, “but both your parents would be undeniably proud of you.”

Harry shook his head, looking defeated, “All those people… they died for me. Voldemort told you I would come to him, that I couldn’t stand those people dying for me. He was right- I can’t stand it. I can’t.”

“Harry, will you look at me please?” Severus tucked his hair out of his face to allow Harry to see his sincerity. Harry looked up, surprised. “Those people died for each other. They died for their values. For _their_ rights.”

“I just… I feel so guilty.”

“There’s much I feel guilty about as well,” Severus admitted.

Harry looked thoughtful, as though hedging his bets. Then he said softly, “I forgive you. My mum… she’d want you to let that guilt go, after everything.” Severus nearly choked. He withdrew into himself to save grace, allowing his hair to fall as a curtain once more as Harry added, “We all have a chance to be happy now, you know. Finally.”

After a long internal struggle Severus nodded and asked, “Did you share those memories with anyone?”

“Of course not!” Harry replied, sounding genuinely astounded by the question. “But,” he added, “I did knock Voldemort down a peg by telling him he’d lost your loyalty so long ago. And the reason why. In front of everybody.”

Severus couldn’t help but allow his lips to hook up a little at the casual phrasing. “So you’ve told no one details?”

“No,” Harry said firmly. “If you hadn’t survived… I would have told her.”

Severus nodded, “Thank you, Harry.”

He had allowed two memories of Hermione to flow out along with those Harry had needed to see. The first, her fiery reaction to her meeting with Dumbledore. The second of his fleeting moments with Hermione in the Forest of Dean. With discomfort, he noted the way Harry was sharply assessing him. It seemed Potter had relieved himself of any anxiety in relation to his ill-mannered potions professor.

“You really do care about her,” Harry observed. “She hasn’t told us anything about why she was the one who knew you were on our side…”

“Nothing improper has happened,” Severus snapped.

“I wasn’t saying that,” Harry said calmly. It was nearly as infuriating as Dumbledore’s cheerful way of discussing horrific actions. “I’m just curious how she came to see past everything. She clearly cares for you.”

“That is not good,” Severus murmured despondently.

“Well,” Harry said, surprising Severus, “whatever it is, it is. It’s not changing.”

Looking up at Harry, Severus said, “I don’t deserve it.”

Harry clapped Severus on the shoulder, “Just don’t hurt her, I’m obliged to say it.”

Severus sighed heavily, “The Ministry have yet to inform me what they have planned for me.” 

“I know,” Harry remarked casually, not sounding concerned in the slightest. He ruffled his hair and adjusted his glasses before continuing, “There will be a hearing to gather information and determine if charges should be pressed against you.”

“Ah.” 

Harry quirked an eyebrow at his despondent professor, “You’re not concerned by that are you? You shouldn’t be. At the risk of sounding as arrogant as you’ve always accused me of being, the Wizengamot will do exactly what I tell them to do. I am the Chosen One, after all.” 

Severus smirked at this, “Potter, you were always unfoundedly arrogant. At least now you have some legitimate clout.”

Harry shrugged passing Severus the last piece of chocolate before striding out the room calling “So no worries, then,” over his shoulder.

**** 

The Great Hall had been long since cleaned and returned to order, house tables back in place. While many parts of the castle were still in varying degrees of disarray it was strange to see this place, which had been so central in the battle, as if nothing had happened. There were clusters of those people who had been most central in the war effort sitting to dinner throughout the hall. While many had returned home to their families, or to focus their time on getting the Ministry back into working order, a large collection of fighters was staying to repair Hogwarts. This included all the Weasleys but Arthur- who was integral to the Ministry at the moment.

Hermione found Ron and Ginny and went to them. Immediately the siblings slid apart for her and wrapped their arms around her shoulders.

“I’m so sorry,” Hermione whispered. “I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you.”

“We understand,” Ginny said, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“You’re not mad?” Hermione asked, seeking Ron’s eyes.

“I reckon since Harry’s alright with everything, I ought to be too. Hermione- you’re not stupid,” at this he chuckled, running his hand through his hair. “I trust your judgement.”

At this, Hermione burst into tears. 

“We hope, at least, that you’ll tell us the truth of how it all came to this sometime,” Ginny said. 

“It’s a little weird,” Ron added sheepishly, “Did you… were you-”

“Ron,” Ginny hissed.

“Oh- oh god _no_ ,” Hermione replied quickly, “We weren’t having an _affair_ or anything!” She felt a tell tale rush of heat to her face. “It’s just… I noticed he was struggling, and the position he was in and I kind of… started checking up to make sure he wasn’t cracking under the pressure… and he was teaching me some very useful skills for when we went off with Harry…”

“Oh _good,_ ” Ron looked relieved.

“I mean,” Hermione said quietly, looking down at her hands, “now…” 

“Now the war’s over,” Ron noted, “and we’re all grown up. Things are gonna be different.”

**** 

“Hermione,” Professor McGonagall greeted happily. “I was hoping to speak to Severus for a few moments, are you headed back up to the Hospital Wing?”

“Oh, yes, I was- but I can find somewhere else to be for a while.”

“Oh no, no need. I will not be too long. Let’s walk together.”

Hermione walked along in silence with her old head of house, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. Her decision to steadfastly remain at Severus’s side was likely to make gossip roll.

Professor McGonagall surprised her by saying, “Thank you for taking such good care of him, Hermione.”

“Oh…”  Hermione focused intently on moving her feet one in front of the other along the stone slabs of the hallway.

“I might have faltered this past year, but I trust Severus. I have known him since he was a little boy, you see. And while he may have made some poor choices, may have stumbled along the way, I believe he is a good man.”

“As do I,” Hermione agreed softly.

“I know you come from a Muggle culture, but an age difference that might seem unsurpassable to Muggles is not such a breech of norm for us. Given how much longer we live, you understand.”

The brisk, no-nonsense manner in which her mentor stated this was almost too much for Hermione to bear. She wanted to sink into the stones. It was a great relief, truly, that those she cared about were so accepting-but it did feel strange. Hermione hung back as they entered the Hospital Wing seeing that Harry had left and Severus was on his own, perusing a copy of the Daily Prophet. _The Golden Trio,_ the headline read, _What Those Who Knew Them Before Have to Say._  

“Severus,” Professor McGonagall greeted, maintaining her straightforward tone, “I owe you an apology.” 

“Minerva,” Severus replied reproachfully, “You owe no such thing. It was vitally important that you believed what you did and subsequently acted in the manner that you acted.”

“Well, either way I am deeply sorry for it. I should have trusted you. I should have, at least, been mildly less mutinous.”

“Well,” he admitted ruefully, “it was a challenge to have such a formidable foe against me when I was just trying to prevent the Carrows from killing off students.”

The sharp mannered older woman smiled at him gratefully, “I will never make such a mistake again. Though, I do hope there’s never an opportunity for me to make such a mistake in the future.”

“I don’t suspect there will be,” Severus reassured. “I am glad to have you back as a friend. I rather missed it.”

Hermione smiled, touched to see the two most formidable instructors of Hogwarts outside of their normal roles. When Professor McGonagall left, Hermione stepped up to Severus’s side.

She took one look at him and said, “It’s been a long day. Go to sleep.”

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so excited to have broken 100 kudos! Thank you to all those who have subscribed and everyone for their feedback :) I hope you all enjoy the last chapter... I should have it up within the next couple of days! In the meantime, if any of you are interested I have put up the first chapter of my next fic, The Art of Personal Transfiguration, which focuses on Tonks and Lupin, with some Draco-Tonks cousinly friendship developing on the side.


	22. Chapter 22

Gratitude had swelled in Severus when Hermione had suggested they just go to sleep the night previous. He suspected Hermione had been rather relieved when he agreed. Emotions had been running too high yesterday and Severus was still burdened with pain and fatigue.

But now- facing one another over breakfast laid out on a table top hovering above his hospital bed, with morning sun filtering through the room- there were things that needed to be addressed. He had waited for Hermione to speak first, wanting to determine where she stood in the fresh day before he could find the nerve to say anything. Perhaps, he thought, she would rescind her declaration. Whether that thought gave him relief or filled him with dread, Severus was unsure.

“Did you know about the Elder Wand?” Hermione finally asked, nearly vibrating with anxiety. “I mean,” she added in a rush, “Dumbledore wanted its powers to die with him, because he had _wanted_ to die. Maybe the wand wouldn’t have transferred owners no matter what. But even then- even then he _must_ have known it might have gone to you. And that certainly Voldemort would think that it had.” She paused for a moment before adding quietly, “Did you know?”

Hermione had not looked at him once during her line of questioning. Now she turned her face up to him, eyes haunted. Severus placed his hand gently on top of her own, laying next to her forgotten breakfast plate.

“I didn’t know, Hermione.” He said truthfully, watching carefully as relief washed over her features. “But… even if I had known, that would not have changed anything.”

She swallowed hard, looking down once more, “Oh.”

“Hermione… Dumbledore told me he wanted to keep Draco’s soul unharmed. He said that only I could know whether helping a dying man die on his own terms would damage my soul. I would have made the decision to protect Draco no matter. And to maintain my position. I didn’t expect to live. Truthfully, for many years I did not want to live beyond this." 

Hermione nodded, appearing to have expected such an answer. She nibbled on her lip for a moment and then asked, “Do you regret that I saved you?”

_Oh,_ Severus understood now. He reached out to tilt her chin up gently, meeting her eyes steadily. 

“I have had more hope in the past year than the twenty previous, Hermione. No, I do not regret that you saved me. Not the least because I imagine you would have tortured yourself with a sense of onus for your lifetime if you had not.”

Nodding briskly Hermione jumped up, beginning to pace beside the bed. “So what will you do, now?”

“I’m not sure,” Severus mused. He had, in fact, been avoiding the consideration all together. He felt a little aimless, having made every decision for the past twenty years with a goal that was now complete. He was more free now than he had been his entire adult life, no powerful wizards to report to. Severus was not tied to anything. It was just himself and his shitty little house in Spinner’s End, full of bad memories. 

“Firstly, I made you a promise,” he said. “I will help you retrieve your parents and return their memories.”

Hermione paused her pacing momentarily, “Thank you.”

She packed so much emotion in those small words that Severus struggled to say anything further.

“I would, perhaps, like to return to the Defence Against the Darks Arts position.”

Hermione nodded, seeming to approve of the idea. “There’s something else we need to discuss,” she said, voice wavering. 

Severus shook his head regretfully, “I am too old- too damaged frankly, Hermione.”

She stopped abruptly by the foot of his bed, glaring at him.

“You know, those are exactly the arguments Remus gave Tonks.”

“I never thought I would have anything in common with that man, but he was right. As am I.”

“Bullocks!” Hermione snapped, “Tonks refused to accept it and so do I! They are both dead now, Severus. _Dead_. But at least they spent their last year together.

“Everything will not be miraculously wonderful in the world now. I intend to live with purpose while I can! You are the bravest damned man in all of the wizarding world, why is this too frightening?”

Hermione went silent, scowling at Severus. Her hair was radiating around her, catching in the sunlight. Her deep brown eyes filled with sparks. She stepped around the bed to stand next to him. 

“Do you not think you deserve happiness?” She asked, sounding heartbroken.

“I- truthfully? No.”

Hermione, biting her lip, tears in her eyes, nodded.

“Twenty years of atonement isn’t enough?” Then, so softly he could scarcely hear she added, “What about me then? Do I?”

At this Severus moved slowly to stand in front of her. He placed his hands on her biceps gently, but firmly, as he had the night of her panic attack so many months ago.

“Hermione…” He gazed into her eyes, willing her to know how much he wanted to protect her from any sort of hurt. “Of course you do.” 

“Then…” She looked utterly lost for a moment, eyes roving the room, reluctant to meet his. Finding some degree of determination, she took a step closer to him and looked up, “You can’t tell me you don’t feel the same way as I do.”

“No,” he conceded, wishing he were stronger. 

Hermione wrapped her arms around him and he allowed his hands to slide from her arms to her back, embracing her. She laid her head onto his chest. They stood there for a moment, silently.

“I thought I’d lost you,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I thought you’d died and I would never- I would never be able to…”

As she began to cry Severus rubbed her back gently, “Hermione…”

“Don’t force me to lose you anyhow Severus, please.”

“Okay.” He sighed deeply, heart panging. “Okay, Hermione.”

She pulled away, teary, and cupped his cheek in her palm. “We’ll take it slow,” she whispered. “I promise I’m not going anywhere, though. How I feel is not going to change.”

“No?” He asked, searching her eyes and feeling absurdly unsure.

“No,” Hermione said firmly.

Severus could not resist any longer, he bent down to kiss her slowly and ardently. 

“As soon as you’re up for it we are going out for dinner together,” she informed him as he pulled away. “A nice muggle restaurant, where no one will recognize us.”

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed the last chapter! Thank you for all your lovely comments, kudos and general support! I put a lot of love into this little fic. If any of you are interested I would love if you checked out my new fic The Art of Personal Transfiguration- it is about Tonks and Lupin with a healthy dose of Draco starting from just after HBP. Thanks again and I wish you all a wonderful spring!


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